Life After Death
by Coyote Blues
Summary: How Raven became Mystique after joining the Brotherhood. Erik/Raven, Azazel/Mystique, Hellfire Club  XFC, Charles & other pairs suggested. Character studies and back stories. Some language & adult themes as story progresses. AU after XFC. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

_My goal is to upload a new chapter every 7-10 days. I was enamored with the characters in X-Men: First Class and wanted to explore their stories and interactions more, especially between the members of the Brotherhood and of course, my favorite characters Mystique and Azazel. I wanted to explore the depth and complexity of their relationship, and maybe fill in the gaps of their characters' development and back-stories. Check back often, follow, and of course, please review + critique! Thanks :)  
><em>

**Chapter 1**

"_I didn't _FORCE_ you to join me! I didn't _FORCE_ you to leave Charles and the others! You chose this path Mystique, and I'll be _dammed_ if you die traveling it because you don't want to learn to _survive_!" _

His words stung as if a hand slapped her face. How could he be so callous, after all she'd _given up_…after all she had _given to_ him. Mystique stood outside Erik's room, her hands behind her back bracing her weight against the wall, trying hard not to sink to the floor as their conversation echoed in her mind. A sob caught in her throat like a wounded bird beating its wings for freedom. She tipped her head back, struggling to contain herself. She felt sick, and dizzy.

…_I will _NOT_ cry, I will _NOT_ cry, I will _NOT_ cry…_

* * *

><p>It had been roughly six months since that fateful day on the beach, the day when she shed the skin of her former life and, taking Erik's hand, stepped into the great unknown. It was a calculated decision, one that gave her unprecedented freedom. During the first few weeks that followed, she felt giddy and lightheaded with the knowledge that she had made her <em>own<em> decision, autonomous of Charles, to walk her _own_ path. The first day in the private hotel floors above the Hellfire Club – the Brotherhood's new headquarters – she fell into bed with Erik and they laughed out loud, embracing each other and the future. As the first few weeks unfolded, her giddiness and carefree feelings were slowly replaced with a creeping uncertainty, a growing need to re-evaluate her choices. As she settled into her new life, Mystique realized that she had a lot to learn if she was going to survive her surroundings.

The other members of the Brotherhood were still foreign to her, and the true motivation of their behavior remained hard to interpret. Emma with her icy, knowing stares. Janos, silent and brooding, hardly speaks to anyone except Angel (and even then, the two converse in Spanish to the exclusion of the other members, save for Erik). Mystique at times found a friend in Angel, but she didn't trust the girl completely. Too quickly had Angel turned coat from Charles to Shaw, and Mystique often felt judgment in her eyes, as if she was thinking, '_poor little rich girl_,' whenever Mystique voiced a complaint. Azazel was hardly around at all, but when he did appear, he did so without announcement, and he had a way of standing perfectly still that Mystique found downright unnerving. Azazel did not often speak, and he always seemed poised to draw a blade at a moment's notice. She hadn't forgotten that night at the CIA compound, and though she tried not to show it, she was afraid of him.

As fierce as they were, the former Hellfire members also displayed oddly tender, downright _human_ moments. After the fight on the beach, Azazel was incredibly gentle when he wrapped Angel's injured wing, her tears comforted by Janos's soothing words as he held her hands. Emma continues to be instrumental in Erik's training, and she does not hold it against him that the second time they met, he tried to kill her. When they returned to the safety of the hotel after rescuing Emma, her first action upon materializing was to pull Janos, Azazel and even Angel into a crushing hug. Mystique felt awkward and excluded in the private lobby watching this display, knowing clearly that she and Erik were not part of it. Mystique felt that lines were drawn that day; she and Erik were the "new" mutants, and would have to fight for the acceptance from the others while learning to work cohesively as a team. As the unspoken leader, it was on Erik's shoulders to make this happen, and on that day, Mystique was deeply concerned for him.

Mystique was also concerned about her own abilities. The others seemed so much more powerful and confident in their mutations than she. On their first official "mission" – freeing Emma four months prior – Mystique was confronted sharply by her own limitations. She could hide her true form well enough, but during a surprise attack when her disguise failed, two CIA agents cornered her. She was lucky Erik and Azazel appeared seconds before bullets passed through her body. She was shaken for days after this near-death experience. Mystique felt a distinct shift in her and Erik's relationship after that event. The pressure of leading the mission to rescue Emma, of knowing that his plan almost got Mystique killed, took away much of Erik's former carefree attitude. Whether out of love or guilt, he seemed to regard Mystique now as someone to care for, a delicate link to favor in the chain. She had clung to Erik like a child clings to her mother's skirt. He was her connection to her past and her present self, and of late, he was focusing heavily on shaping the Brotherhood.

Mystique thought back to when they first left Charles and the others, and Erik and she moved as an unspoken pair. Erik would talk excitedly for hours about his plans to create a brotherhood of mutants to fight for equality and rights at any cost. Mystique looked at him with adoration, her heart flooded with happiness that she had made the right choice to follow Erik and join this venture. His words were so passionate, so inspiring, so _right_, that it was no wonder the other mutants quickly accepted Erik as a leader. Even Emma, former second in command and powerful in her own right, quickly differed to Erik as the ultimate authority on team decisions. His abilities and presence as an orator made him a valuable bridge to the rest of the mutant community. In the past few months, however, as the Brotherhood's activities expanded, Mystique felt Erik slowly slipping away. Their long talks were replaced more frequently with hushed, deep conversations between various members of the Brotherhood, especially between Erik and Emma. Mystique would often find them sitting together, drinking in the kitchen lounge, laughing or heatedly discussing plans of action. She was painfully aware that, more and more often, she was not asked to join in these discussions, and more nights she was sleeping alone. Erik was growing distant.

…_I will _NOT_ cry, I will _NOT_ cry, I will _NOT_ cry…_

* * *

><p>Erik wanted her to improve her hand-to-hand combat skills. This was the topic of their conversation that left her battling tears outside his room. He and <em>Emma<em> decided this a few days ago. Mystique had been longing for Erik's companionship. She slipped into his room and had fallen asleep waiting for his arrival. It was not uncommon for her to do this, and Erik had always welcomed her company when he found her. Even though he was pleased, it did not escape her attention that it was becoming rare that he visited her quarters. In the last few months, Mystique felt that his passion for her was slowly being replaced by his passion for politics, for recruiting new mutants and for planning the Brotherhood's next mission.

This day's conversation certainly did not end how she imagined.

Mystique frowned and absent mindedly soothed down the bedspread as Erik spoke his plan to her from his desk. He didn't even take a seat next to her on the bed. "I bet this was Emma's idea. It certainly wasn't yours, at least not yours _alone_."

"Actually Mystique, it was. Emma just happened to agree with me."

"Agreed with you, yeah, _right_. I am sure she _planted_ the idea in your mind. Erik, I…"

"_First_, I was wearing the helmet when Emma and I spoke about this. _Second_, the last time we fought you almost got _killed_. Next time I might not be able to be there to intervene. You need to better protect yourself. Your abilities…"

Mystique interrupted sharply, "my shifting abilities have grown _heaps_ since we started the Brotherhood. I can do things now I could _never_ do before. I've been asked countless times, _by you_, to change form to steal information from government offices, not to mention all the times I've had to be Sebastian Shaw to drain his bank accounts! That's my job. I can protect myself just fine, _thank_ you. What happened when we freed Emma…that was an _accident_. I haven't repeated it since, and I don't plan to either."

"Mystique, none of those situations required you to actually _fight_; you just needed to 'blend in.' Eventually we will all fight, and you need to learn how to better protect yourself physically. Emma merely suggested that we ask Azazel to teach you, since he…"

"_Azazel_?" Mystique became ridged and hoped that the panic in her voice was not audible. "Why _him_? You _know_ how I feel about him!" She couldn't believe Erik wanted her to train with Azazel. She shuddered at the memory of the sound of bodies raining on the ground. If Erik had been there, he'd understand her fear.

Erik glared at her, annoyed by her interruptions. "…since he previous trained Emma. Come on Mystique, he's the best close quarters fighter on the team. You know this."

"Erik, I just can't…," _Wait..._ "…why do you keep calling me '_Mystique'_?"

Erik hesitated. "It's…it's your chosen code name. That's what you want to be called, right?"

"Yes, but before you've always called me 'Raven'_." It's our thing_, she wanted to say. _It's something you and I have that no one else has. Don't take that away from us too._

Erik sighed and rubbed his eyes. He looked exhausted. "We need to work on fitting in better with the other members of the Brotherhood. It's been four months since we've solidified as a team and you and I are still walking on eggshells. We call them by their chosen code names, and it's only right that we call each other by our code names as well." Erik paused awkwardly, as if unsure of how to proceed. "I'd…I'd prefer it if you called me 'Magneto,'" at this Mystique's eyes widened in shock. He quickly added, "at least in front of the others."

Mystique's mouth opened but no words came out. She felt like a fish gasping for breath. After a few moments, she recovered enough to find her voice, now heavily spiked with anger.

"Erik…_Magneto_, then. Ok, fine. _Magneto_, why can't _you_ teach me to fight?"

"I need to focus on other things right now. We need to make this work. Mystique, don't give me that look…you of all people should know what we've got at stake."

"So I'm not a priority then? Hmm? Well, that's just fucking great, _Magneto_. After everything I've…!"

Erik stood up abruptly and unleashed his voice, "I didn't _FORCE_ you to join me! I didn't _FORCE_ you to leave Charles and the others! You chose this path Mystique, and I'll be _dammed_ if you die traveling it because you don't want to learn to _survive_!" As soon as these words flew from his lips, Erik's face fell with regret for the truth he just omitted.

Mystique recoiled on the bed from the force of his words. Her lip began to quiver, and her eyes stung as tears welled up behind them. She looked away, unable to meet Erik's eyes. "Oh, Erik…" Erik gave her a pitied, guilty look, and then turned away.

"It's late, and I'm tired. I think it's time to go to bed." Erik motioned toward the door, and manipulating the metal knob, he opened it. "This conversation is over. I'll speak with Azazel when I see him next. I promise this will be a good experience for you – please, just_ trust _me. Good night, Mystique."

Mystique hesitated, and looked at the bed she was sitting on. Slowly, she stood up and walked to the door, purposely giving Erik time to change his mind. At the door, she turned to face him. "Erik, don't…"

"Good _night_, Mystique."

Mystique swallowed hard and nodded her head. As she walked out the door, she heard it close gently behind her, and a second later, the lock clicked into place. It was final, then; she would be sleeping alone tonight. This was how Mystique found herself outside Erik's room, her mind reeling.

* * *

><p>…<em>I will <em>NOT_ cry, I will _NOT_ cry, I will _NOT_ cry…_

She repeated these words to herself like a mantra as she ran to her room. Once inside, she slammed the door, and slick, hot tears slipped from her eyes down her face. She slid down the back of the door into herself and lost track of time in her sorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Mystique had slipped into a dreamless sleep. She floated freely in a cathartic sea, foggy and comforting. After a while, she heard music.

Softly, like a whisper, the gentle chords of a piano floated in the air around her. As she returned to consciousness, she sniffled, wiped her eyes with the back of her hands, and looked up. At first her surroundings confused her, then the conversation with Erik surfaced in her memory. Her eyes were sore and she was stiff from sleeping in a sitting position against her door. She had no idea what time it was, but knew it was late enough that the downstairs club was closed and that her teammates would be sound asleep. _Should be sound asleep_. But the music…it wasn't a dream. She held her breath, as if any noise would scare it away. She opened her door and listened. Hesitantly, she took a few small steps in the direction of the notes. Yes, it seem a bit louder now…one foot in front of the other, slowly…Mystique followed the rich ribbons of sound down the hallway to the Brotherhood's private hotel entrance. Unlocking the doorway, she walked down a flight of stairs, her footfalls light so as not to compete with the music. After a few twists and turns, she found herself at the end of a long, dark hallway, with a door slightly ajar at the end. She paused, listening; _yes, the music was coming from here_. She walked down the hallway and peered into the room.

At the end of the hallway was a back entrance into the club's public lounge. The club was indeed closed for the day (if Mystique had to guess the time, it was early afternoon. The Brotherhood had adopted a nocturnal schedule as a necessity to living secretly above a nightclub). Even in the daytime, the lounge was dark. Rich velvet curtains covered the walls and fell to meet dark wood floors, blocking sunlight and giving the room a warm, smoky feel. The silver chandelier threw shimmering light along the walls and the gleaming bar, adding to the luxury of the club's main room. In the center stood the grand piano, and seated behind it was Azazel.

At first, the scene before her did not fully register. She heard the sharp, sweet notes of the instrument fire off with authority, as if the song were an effortless performance. The delicate music paired with the devilish musician seemed like a weighted contradiction. She could tell by his movements that he was reading the sheet music, and his hands moved like fire over the keys. Her breath caught in her throat, and the familiar cold knot of fear grew in her stomach. She felt like a deer caught in a bright light, wanting to flee but too enticed by the music to take the first retreating step. Thinking she would stay for just a moment longer, Mystique leaned forward slightly to better hear. As she did so, she accidentally pushed the door. It creaked loudly, a traitor calling out her trespass. Mystique froze.

It was then Azazel looked directly at her.

If he was surprised, he did not show it. He continued striking out notes as fiercely as he wielded a sword. His gaze was intense, almost daring her to step into the room and officially reveal herself. Until that moment, Mystique never quite realized how pale and ice blue his eyes were. In the dim light, they showed like crystals against his crimson features. At once Mystique felt her cheeks flush and her skin prickle, but she did not look away. An amused smile tugged the corners of his mouth, and Azazel returned his gaze to the sheet music as he continued to play. Mystique let out her breath, and realized she had been holding it the entire time. _Oh fuck_, she thought. She knew she could not slip away quietly now. She stood for a few seconds longer in the doorway before tentatively stepping into the room. Azazel looked back to her and motioned with a slight nod at a small couch by the piano. Mystique swallowed hard and quickly walked to it. Once seated, Azazel began a new song. After a few moments, Mystique decided to make the best of the situation. Closing her eyes, she surrendered to the sound of the music.

Mystique didn't know how long she sat there before realizing the music had ceased. She opened her eyes, and was greeted with Azazel facing her with his back to the piano, his arms crossed. When he saw her eyes open, he nodded and reached to the side of the piano, producing a glass and an open bottle of wine. He poured the wine and held the glass out to Mystique. It was an unexpected gesture, and it caught her by surprise.

"T-thank you," she stuttered, then recomposed herself by smiling and holding up the glass. Azazel said nothing, but returned a brief closed-lipped smile, picked up a second, half drunk glass of wine, and touched it to Mystique's glass.

They drank and said nothing. Mystique, unaccustomed to drinking wine, found it bitter, but she took small sips and smiled as if it was pleasant. Azazel continued to gaze coolly at Mystique, his tail twitching catlike behind him. The silence grew so thick it could be cut with a knife. Mystique felt unsure of what to do or say. Since she had walked in on him, she felt like she was expected to talk. She was still afraid of him, and blurted out the first thought that seemed passable.

"I…uh…I didn't know you could play the piano."

Azazel continued to look at her for a few seconds. He took slip of wine, and then quietly answered, "there are many things about me you do not know." His accent was heavy, but he always spoke with enough diction to be understood.

Mystique felt her face grow hot and she looked down at her glass. She felt ashamed that in six months living in the same building as Azazel, that she could count on one hand how much she _actually_ knew about him. It struck Mystique how much of an emotional rock her teammate was. She had rarely ever seen him outwardly express feelings save for an occasional smile, although in the past months she had heard stories of his quiet acts of kindness and generosity for his Hellfire teammates. She wondered if he realized she avoided him. How can you really be afraid of someone you don't even know? _Because he's a killer_. Yes, he is a killer, Mystique thought, but on the beach that day_ so was Erik_. At this realization, she suddenly felt childish and small. Mystique began again.

"You play beautifully. Really I mean that. Charles…my brother…he played all the time but he could never play like you just did, just now. It was wonderful. How is it that you play so well?"

"As a child, I learned piano." Then he added, as if an afterthought, "my father taught me."

_Father_. The word took her by surprise. She never imagined Azazel having a father, or a family for that matter. She couldn't picture him as a child, or without his visible mutations, but now the seed was planted. Suddenly, perhaps motivated out of shame and guilt, she wanted to rectify her lack of knowledge about her fellow mutant.

Looking at the wine as she swirled it in her glass, she asked, "was your father a musi…"

"Do I frighten you?"

Mystique's face snapped up. She looked at Azazel with her lips parted. She didn't know how to respond. She hesitated for an uncomfortable few seconds.

"Uh, no…not really. No." She tried her best to sound sincere.

Azazel was sitting with that perfect stillness Mystique found so unnerving. Suddenly, he jumped up and lunged at her, stopping just short of actually touching her. Mystique yelped and jumped, scrambling backwards over the couch and dropped her glass. With a distinct crack, it shattered on the wood floor. Azazel sat back down on the piano bench and held his head in his hands, elbows on his knees. Mystique gasped for air and looked at him wide-eyed. His shoulders were shaking. When he looked back up, his smile was dazzling. He was…_laughing_. He was laughing at her reaction.

"That _wasn't_ funny!" Mystique was not amused. Azazel snorted. Her heart was pounding so hard she was sure he could hear it. She climbed over the couch and retook her seat, although she had half a mind to storm out of the room.

"_Nyet_, that was the truth. I do scare you. I wonder why?" He turned back to the piano and tapped on a few keys. Then he picked up his drink and looked at her expectantly. He wasn't laughing anymore, but a light smile played upon his face.

"Ok, yes, _fine_. You do scare me, a little." There, it was out. Now she waited to see what he'd make of it. This time she crossed her arms as if to challenge him. She wanted her heart to stop racing.

Azazel looked thoughtful. He stroked his beard for a moment, and then waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "You have nothing to fear. I would never hurt you." He flashed Mystique another smile as if to reassure her. It didn't.

Mystique responded tartly, "you're a _killer_."

His smile faded. "Yes, I kill when necessary. Just like your Magneto."

"Erik…_Magneto_ isn't a killer."

"Oh, _nyet_?" Azazel made a face of mock surprise, putting his hands up to exaggerate his point. "Magneto didn't try and turn missiles on those ships at the beach? Those ships with hundreds of humans? And kill Shaw? Or when he tried to break Emma's neck? Hmmm? How about when he _hurt_ your Charles when he was trying to _kill_ the woman agent? Yet we try to free you from those men that wanted to lock you away like an animal, and_ I_ am this 'killer'? _Interesting_." Azazel crossed his arms again. His tail twitched sharply as if to agree with his own point.

Mystique bolted up from her seat and pointed a finger directly in Azazel's face. "You tried to _kill_ my friends!"

Quick as lightening, Azazel grabbed Mystique's hand and pulled her close to him. She was inches from his face. She could feel his breath as he hissed, "your _friends_ would have killed any one of us if they had the chance! Do you deny this?"

Mystique began to object but hesitated. He tightened his grip on her hand.

"_Do you deny this_?" His eyes seemed to penetrate her to the core. "Would _you_ have killed _me_ to save your friend?"

Mystique finally looked away. "_Da_, I thought so." He released her and she sunk back into the couch, defeated. Looking at her coolly once again, he said smugly, "do not call me a _killer_ when you keep the company of one."

Mystique would not meet his gaze. She felt like crying. After a few moments of her staring at the floor in silence, she heard Azazel sigh audibly. "I…I'm sorry. I did not mean to upset you."

Mystique did not look at him, but dismissed him with a limp wave. She could hear genuine concern in his voice just then, and besides - _he was right_. She was just too upset to admit it. She knew in her heart she would have killed him, or tried to do so, if he had succeeded in killing Hank on the beach. The realization was an epiphany for her. All these months avoiding Azazel, yet lying in bed with a killer at night. Have the soul of someone who would kill another. The silence was deafening in the room, broken only by the ticking of the clock and the occasional swish of his tail.

Azazel cleared his throat. "Mystique? Why do you cry, when we sleep?"

The question caught her off guard. Mystique looked at Azazel and narrowed her eyes. She responded carefully, controlling her voice. "What do you mean?"

Azazel looked straight at her, as if seeking an answer in her eyes.

"I don't know what you are talking about."

Azazel glanced down at his wine glass, then back at Mystique. "You cry often at during the days. I know this. I am wondering why."

Mystique swallowed. A familiar sting welled-up at the back of her eyes. _Fuck_.

"No, it's just…it's just that…"

Oh god, do _NOT_ cry. Not _now_. But her face already started to screw-up. "It's just…everything's so…I dunno…_different_ here. Everything's _different_. Everyone's so _different_. All your mutations. You all can fight. All I can do is hide. I'm tired of being weak. I'm tired of feeling like I don't belong here and wondering if I made a mistake leaving the others. All I have from before is Erik, and lately he doesn't even care that I _exist_." Her heart flowed like a river out of her chest. Almost immediately she regretted being so candid. Embarrassment burned in her. She looked up lamely at Azazel in tears, expecting him to be disgusted at her _weakness_.

Instead, she was surprised to find Azazel holding out a handkerchief to her. She took it gratefully and pressed it to her eyes. Then, very carefully, as if making sure his English was perfect, he said quietly, "he loves you, but not in the way you want him to. And not in the way you deserve."

Mystique froze. She slowly looked back at Azazel, astonished at his words. He was not looking at her, but instead, he sat silently contemplating his hands. Mystique was reeling. It was an astute observation, one that in her months of avoiding Azazel, she was shocked to hear from his mouth.

"You want learn to fight?" he asked after a brief silence. Mystique, still shocked by his interpretation of Erik's behavior, meekly nodded her head. Wiping off tears, she looked at him. "Yes."

"I teach you."

"Really?"

"_Da_, really."

"…Did Emma put you up to this?"

Azazel raised an eyebrow. "Emma? _Nyet_, not Emma. You did, just now." Azazel thought for a moment. "But you must want to fight. I will not be easy on you because you are a woman." At this, he smiled, and despite her puffy eyes and runny nose, Mystique returned his smile. _She_ decided Azazel would teach her to fight, not Erik, and certainly not Emma.

Azazel tossed back the rest of his drink and placed the empty glass on the top of the piano. He stood up. "It is very late. We cannot be here when the people arrive."

Mystique nodded in agreement, wiped her eyes one last time, and handed Azazel his handkerchief. He didn't even hesitate to accept it and put it in his pocket. Before she could stand up, Azazel held out his hand again. "I take you upstairs, _da_?" She hesitated briefly, and then took his hand. "Alright."

With a sharp crack and a flash of light, she found herself standing in the private lobby of the hotel. She felt lightheaded – teleporting always made her dizzy – and she turned to Azazel. He was still holding her hand. His skin was warmer than she imagined, and his hand felt rough with calluses. She imagined it was from years of working with those swords.

"Find me tomorrow, when you are ready."

Mystique nodded in reply. Azazel let go of her hand and vanished a second later. Mystique watched the fading smoke for a few seconds, then turned and walked to her room. She had a lot to think about before her day was over.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The buzzing lights of Las Vegas burst to life, slowly populating the half-open window of Mystique's bedroom. She yawned, stretched, and rolling onto her side, lazily reached out next to her. Nothing. Sleep lifted from her eyes as she focused on the empty bedside. As her dream dissipated and consciousness regained control, Mystique began to remember Erik's hurtful words, her tears, the bitter taste of wine in her mouth, and a piano.

_Azazel_.

Mystique snapped awake. She lay on her back looking up at the ceiling in her room contemplating the previous day. She couldn't believe she spent so long sitting in the Hellfire Club lounge with Azazel. Her confession, his insight, that music…it all seemed so…_so unreal_. And his promise to teach her to fight…she thought about this for a long time before eventually sighing and stepping out of bed. If she was going to learn anything, she might as well do so on a full stomach.

* * *

><p>Mystique's rooms were a short walk from the Brotherhood's common areas. For an underground organization, it occurred Mystique that their living situation was oddly luxurious. The first six floors of the building contained the still operational Hellfire Club, which earned the income necessary for the group's basic supplies and operations. The club operated under a pseudonym instituted by Shaw, and as long as the group controlled his bank accounts and Emma made occasional financial decisions (she proved to have the best head for business on the team), they were in complete control of the club itself without having to lift a finger. The top three hotel floors had been Shaw's private sanctuary, and were now accessible only to the Brotherhood by a private locked elevator and stairwell. The first of the three floors was used as a common meeting area, and included the hotel lobby (used mostly for Brotherhood meetings), a small ballroom (transformed into an area for combat trainingpractice), and kitchen and lounge area, where the Brotherhood members usually spent their free time when not in their private rooms. When they first moved into the hotel, Mystique and Angel claimed rooms on the second floor, while the men retired to the third floor. Emma, in what Mystique was sure was a power play, chose her rooms on the third floor as well, near her former Hellfire teammates. Wherever the rooms, each mutant had plenty of privacy in their spacious setting.

As she turned the corner to the stairway, Mystique thought back to the first few nights at the hotel and smiled. She remembered daring Erik to races down the seemingly endless hallways, laughing with the freedom the space allotted. She and Angel raided the abandoned suites and nearby resale shops for furniture and items to decorate their new rooms. They spent hours decorating Angel's room with glossy photos torn from fashion magazines, posters of popular bands, and abandoned items from the Hellfire Club itself. While Angel's room incorporated the glitz and glamor of old Las Vegas, Mystique's room was quite bare by comparison. She kept few personal items: a music box given to her by the Xaviers, a rotating stack of books on various topics (right now she was on an aviation kick), a discarded drawing she found in the hotel lobby (she had no idea which of her fellow mutants was the artist, but it was a very good sketch of Mystique with her nose buried in a book), and a worn, creased photo of the old group at the CIA headquarters (including poor Darwin). Even six months later, Mystique found it hard to want to create a permanent space for herself when she knew her life could change at any moment.

* * *

><p>Janos and Angel were seated at the dining table in the kitchen. Emma was present as well, reading a newspaper on a nearby couch in the lounge. Mystique looked at Angel and Janos. Janos, for some reason, was wearing a sheer pink shirt that looked two sizes too small for him. It looked like something Angel would have owned. He caught her looking quizzically at him, and he blushed, burying his face in his cereal bowl. Angel was reading newspaper comics and giggling. Mystique instantly wondered if Janos and Angel had spent the night together. It frustrated her that Erik was drifting away while these two seemed to be drifting closer together.<p>

"I thought the same thing, but we are both wrong." Emma smirked at her own remark, not bothering to look up from her newspaper. Mystique looked at her confused, then her eyes widened with realization. Emma had been reading her mind.

"Finally learning to fight, Mystique? Well, _good _for you. Magneto and I were discussing that just the other night." Mystique quickly closed her mind to Emma. Emma folded down the newspaper and gave Mystique a hard look, and then cracking the paper in annoyance, resumed reading_. At least living with Charles has given me some weapons against telepaths_. Mystique smiled to herself as she grabbed a bowl of cereal and took a seat across from Angel and Janos. She took a few bites before Angel put down the comics, and picking up a piece of buttered toast, leaned across the table toward her.

Angel whispered, "'_learn to fight'_? What's she talking about?" Angel was fond of whispering around Emma. Mystique often wondered if Angel understood what a telepath was. She stirred her cereal.

"I've decided," she shot a sideways glace at Emma, "that I want to learn to fight better, just in case."

"Yeah? That's a good idea. Man, it can get rough out there sometimes. That's one skill I can thank the streets for teaching me. Want me to show you a few moves?" Angel mimicked throwing punches at the table and almost threw her toast accidentally. Mystique smiled and Janos laughed at Angel's pantomime.

"Um, no…Azazel is going to teach me." Mystique hoped her statement came out sounding causal.

"Azazel? _Really_?" Janos looked at Angel at the mention of Azazel's name. Angel paused to translate the conversation. Janos looked surprised, faced Mystique and emitted a low whistle. He said something in Spanish to Angel, and she nodded, translating, "Janos said, he thought you hated Azazel?"

Mystique's face burned. _Did everyone here talk behind my back_? She tried to sound dismissive in her response. "No, I don't hate him. Why would you think that?"

"Because he tried to stab your boyfriend in the face. You know, on the beach? Then you got his ass knocked out." Angel snickered. "Man, I bet the old Red's still sore about that one!"

"Hank was _not_ my boyfriend." Mystique was sure her face was red now, or at least purple. "And I am sure Azazel could care less about what happened on the beach, anyways." _At least_, _I hope he doesn't_.

"Nah, Janos said he was _pissed_. He cut up a bunch of shit in the ballroom with them swords of his when we got back from the beach. I guess he felt pretty stupid falling for your trick."

"Where are Azazel's rooms, anyways? He wanted me to meet him." Mystique stood up from the table with her dishes. She didn't feel like eating anymore, and wanted this conversation to end. She certainly didn't want to think about Azazel being angry, or worse: _angry with swords_.

"_Oo la la_, won't Magneto be jealous that you are running off to another man's room?" Angel giggled and shared it with Janos, who smirked. "First the guy that looks like a stuffed animal, now you want to hit it with a guy who has a tail? I'd stick to Magneto, if I were you – he's a _good-looking_ cat." With that, Angel bit into her toast.

Mystique was not in the mood for her jokes, and answered tartly, "what do you care who I spend my time with anyways?"

Angel answered her mouth full, making her words muddled, "relax Mysty! I'm just teasing. I know you ain't into that. First, Azazel's like_, a million years old_." Angel paused for a moment, knitted her brow in thought, then added, "plus, I don't even think he sleeps."

A second later, red and black smoke burst next the table. Everyone was startled but Emma. Azazel casually brushed off the sleeves of his suit and sauntered over to Angel.

"If you must know, I have not quite reached this '_million years old_,' and _da_, sometimes I do sleep." Standing behind Angel now, Azazel grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled Angel's head back so she was looking up at him as he towered over her chair. He leaned in close to her face and smiled. "If I did not, how could I dream of pretty girls like you?" He held Angel's hair for a few seconds longer, then released her and walked into the kitchen proper towards the coffee maker.

Mystique put her hand to her face and tried hard to suppress a smile. Angel soothed her hair back into place and frowned, then picked up an apple off the table and threw it at Azazel's back. Azazel spun around and caught the apple with one hand. He bit into it, and nodded at Angel. Angel stuck her tongue out at him. He returned the gesture and Angel laughed.

"Well, you're in a good mood this morning Red." Angel shot a sideways look at Mystique, raising her eyebrow. Mystique narrowed her eyes. She wanted to stick out her tongue too at Angel's taunting. Mystique felt a sudden surge of jealously. This playful banter further underscored her feelings of being the outsider in the group. Janos was giving Azazel a sour look, but Azazel merely offered him an amused smile and walked past their table, coffee in hand, into the lounge where Emma was seated.

"Emma," he said quietly. She lowered her newspaper and smiled in response, and the two proceeded to sit silently, staring at one another. Occasionally one of them would make a reactive sound, laugh, or sigh. Angel and Janos looked confused, while Mystique looked astonished. "They're …_talking_!" Angel looked at the pair, then at Mystique, then back before exclaiming, "what? No one's saying shit Mysty!"

Mystique shook her head. "It's…it's hard to explain. You have to be very close with a telepath to understand it. They're talking with their minds. Charles and I did it all the time." _Which means, Azazel spent a long time with a telepath at some point in his life. Why have I never noticed this before?_ Mystique suddenly wanted to know who Azazel's telepath connection was. She certainly didn't think it was Emma.

"Azazel's not a telepath." Angel had a note of irritation in her voice. "Hello? He's the one that _disappears_."

Mystique waved her hand. "You don't have to be a telepath to talk with one. A telepath can read minds, but it takes a lot of practice to be able to tell a telepath things using_ just _your mind; you have to be _really_ good at picturing what you want to say."

Mystique's explanation was interrupted by Erik's sudden arrival in the kitchen. He came to a halt as he crossed the entryway, not expecting everyone to be there, and certainly not expecting everyone to be looking at him. He paused, then took a more commanding stance. "Good morning team. It's good to see everyone." The mutants all looked at Erik, nodded and continued about their business. Erik stood for a few awkward seconds longer, and then sat down at the table where Mystique had been seated moments before. He took a piece of fruit from the center bowl, and as he did so, he turned and looked meekly at Mystique, offering her a half smile. As much as she wanted to return it, she was still angry with him.

"Um, have you had breakfast yet?" Erik asked her in a whisper. Mystique knew he was trying to get her to sit down. Angel and Janos stole glances towards her and Erik. She wasn't in the mood for his apology, nor to be gossip for the remainder of the team.

"Yes, and I'm leaving soon, anyways." She glanced at Azazel. He was still 'talking' with Emma, and hadn't even acknowledged Mystique's presence in the room. Mystique concentrated on Emma for a few seconds. The telepath smirked, then Azazel nodded to Emma and walked over to Mystique.

"Are we ready, then?"

"Ready for what?" Erik sounded suspicious, despite his mouth full of food. Mystique felt slightly uncomfortable. She knew as the leader, he didn't like to be left out of the loop on any decisions.

"Eri…_Magneto_," Mystique paused briefly for dramatic effect. She hated staying his code name. "I've asked Azazel to, uh, teach me a bit more about hand-to-hand combat. You know…in case I need it."

Erik beamed at her. "I think that's a _great_ idea Mystique." _Yes, of course you do, you jerk. _Emma laughed once from the lounge.

"Ok, then." She nodded at Azazel. He held out his arm and she slipped her hand through the crook of his elbow. In a heartbeat, they were gone.

* * *

><p>"You'll feel better in a few minutes, <em>devochka<em>."

Mystique was doubled over. Teleporting always made her feel queasy, but it was certainly a bad idea to do it immediately after eating. She felt a second wave of nausea hitting her and she braced herself against the tree. Azazel had walked a few feet away, and had politely turned his back to her.

"Just, uh…just come to me when you are done, _da_?"

"Ok…"

After about ten minutes, Mystique felt well enough to stand-up. She surveyed her surroundings. She was in a large, grassy meadow ringed by tall spruce and fir trees, with a small pond on the left side. The meadow was dotted with budding spring flowers throughout, and judging by the cool air and fledgling plants, wherever they were, it was early morning. It was a startlingly pretty setting to practice such rough tactics. Azazel stood off to the side, aggressively skipping stones on the pond's surface. Judging from the patterns of ripples on the water, he was rather good at it.

Mystique shook her head. If she had heard yesterday at breakfast that she'd be spending her time with Azazel, _alone_, in a field _God-knows-where_, she would have laughed. It was shocking how much everything changed in a few short hours. _Just like how everything changed on the beach that day_.

"So, where are we?" She asked as she walked toward him. He offered her his handkerchief again, but she waved it away.

"Germany."

"I thought…_Germany_?"

"_Da_, Germany. Near Schwaige to be exact." Azazel read the look of confusion on Mystique's face, the added, "south from Munich."

In a matter of seconds they had jumped from Las Vegas to Germany. No wonder she felt so ill. "Why…why Germany? Why not the ballroom in the hotel? Or somewhere nearby in Nevada?"

"_Ballroom_? You wanted the others to watch?" Mystique realized he had a point. If they stayed in the hotel, she would have been a show for the rest. There's no way she would have been able to concentrate.

"Second," he paused to skip another stone, "I hate the desert. It's so…" He looked thoughtful as he searched for a word, then shook his head. "…you get sick from the heat. This place is best. I know the people here. They will leave us be."

Mystique wondered what he meant by the last part. She started to ask, and then Azazel abruptly disappeared, leaving her alone. A few minutes passed, and notes of panic rose in her chest. Just as suddenly, he reappeared inches behind her, making her scream and jump several feet away.

"_You did that on purpose_!"

In response, he smiled and dropped a brightly colored cloth bundle on the ground between them.

Mystique caught her breath. "What are those?" She peered into the bundle. It contained what appeared to be two wooden swords.

"Things I wanted to bring along but you were in too much of a hurry to avoid _your _boyfriend, _devochka_." Mystique knew she was blushing this time. _Damn Emma_.

Azazel surveyed the meadow. "I think we start at the beginning." Then, turning to face Mystique, he said, "hit me."

Mystique looked taken aback. He stood perfectly still, with his hands at his sides, his eyes fixed onto hers. She made no move toward him. Azazel motioned with his hand for her to move closer. Mystique took an awkward step towards him and put her fists up in a boxer's stance. Azazel continued to stand still. She took another hesitant step forward. He sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"Mystique, we haven't got all day."

Taking a deep breath and summoning her courage, Mystique rushed at Azazel. When in striking distant, she aimed directly at his face and closed her eyes. Suddenly, she was spinning. When she recovered, she found herself facing away from Azazel, her arm twisted firmly behind her back and her other arm pinned against her chest. His tail fastened her legs tightly against his. She was painfully aware that she was immobilized. She struggled against him but with each protest, he tightened his grip. The breath was slowly being squeezed out of her body. Azazel had his chin at the top of her head. He lowered his face to her ear. She felt his beard brush against her cheek as he whispered.

"Still…_frightened_?" There was no hint of teasing in his voice now.

She was terrified. She knew she made a mistake agreeing to this. She was alone, in a foreign country with a _killer_.

After a few more painful seconds, Azazel relaxed his grip enough to let her take a desperate gulp of air, but he did not release her. When he spoke next, his voice was deadly serious.

"You need to learn, Mystique. I know you don't want to, I know that you are doing this to please Magneto, but you need to learn _for yourself_. In one second, just one, I have gotten you in a place where you cannot defend yourself. You cannot fight like this. You must _mean_ it." He tightened his grip again and she cried out. She began to see stars; her twisted arm throbbed and his tail cut off the blood flowing in her legs.

"When I say 'hit me,' you hit me with _anger_, with _rage_. You come at me as if I am your _worst_ enemy. I am the reason for your sadness, your crying. I will be your _killer_ if you do not _kill me first_."

With that he released her and pushed her roughly away from him. She stumbled forward, nearly falling, and spun around to face him. Azazel looked her coolly, calculating her reaction. Then, he quietly repeated, "hit me." This time, his stance was a challenge. Wild-eyed, clenching her teeth, Mystique lunged at him with rage.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note:<em> Devochka_ is Russian slang for "girl." It is used as a term of endearment/playful affection, and reserved for family/friends. _


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Mystique hurt. Her muscles hurt, her bones her, she swore that even her hair hurt. Despite her anger, she fell into Erik's bed that night and cried in his arms. She craved the comfort of another body, and she needed him to see what his neglect had done to her. Now highly apologetic, Erik soothed her tears and stroked her hair. He looked at Mystique with such guilt that he appeared almost as bad as she felt. As he curled his body protectively around hers that night, Mystique felt like a failure.

_Damn Azazel_.

After his little 'demonstration,' Azazel did not touch her again for the rest of the afternoon. He barely spoke to her outside of yelling instructions for her movements. She tried her best but felt like an utter disappointment. Too many times did she hear him respond to everything she did with a clipped, "_Nyet_! _Again_." When they returned to the hotel, she would have taken off running from him if she had the power to make her legs actually run. At least she didn't cry in front of him. _Again_.

It was all the more confusing that when they ended their lesson, Azazel told her to meet him again the next evening to continue training. She hadn't done anything right, and she certainly didn't feel like another torture session. It took her hours to fall asleep, despite Erik's soothing reassurances and the comfort of her old habits.

* * *

><p>When she woke-up, she was alone. Always an early riser (even for their nocturnal schedule), Erik was nowhere to be found in his room. Mystique slowly eased her body out of bed. She felt like her joints had rusted into place during her slumber. She gingerly hobbled over to the door and opening it, limped out into the hallway towards the kitchen.<p>

Voices, in heated whispers, where coming from the end of the hallway around the corner. Intrigued, Mystique slowly made her way toward the conversation.

At the end of the hallway stood Erik and Azazel. Erik was obviously quite angry, as he jabbed his finger in Azazel's face while talking. Azazel, normally so hard to read, clearly displayed irritation and stood with his arms firmly crossed, scowling and looking down at Erik. His only movement was the sharp wagging of his tail behind him, reacting to Erik's heated inflictions. This scene would have appeared comical if Mystique didn't already know how deadly both men could be. Neither of them saw or heard her approaching.

"…she is just a girl, you can't treat her like this. You should see what state she's in right now because of you!"

Azazel responded icily. "She is stronger than she looks."

"I don't want her doing any of that again. You are to be gentle with her, understand? So help me if you hurt her…"

"So you think our enemies will be '_gentle'_?"

"This isn't a _game_, Azazel. You know what I mean."

"Erik, what are you doing?" Both men suddenly turned in the direction of Mystique's voice. Erik's expression was one of surprise. Azazel, on the other hand, regarded Mystique's unexpected arrival with a glint of curiosity in his eyes.

"Mystique…you're up early," Erik quickly pulled his hand away from Azazel and tried to play off his actions. He clearly did not expect her to rise so early because of her pain.

"Good then, I was just talking to Azazel, and…"

"Yes, I heard," Mystique interrupted, and then turned to face Azazel. She ached everywhere, and it ached even more for her to say what she said next.

"Good evening, Azazel. I am ready to leave when you are."

Azazel cocked his head slightly and raised an intrigued eyebrow at Mystique.

Erik appeared at a loss for words. "Mystique? I…uh…can you give us a moment?" Red and black smoke appeared where Azazel had previously stood. Erik now confronted Mystique. He did not look pleased.

"What is _this_ about? '_I am ready to leave when you are_'? Did you not just spend hours crying over how much you hated this?"

"Yes, but…"

"And here I am trying to make things better for you and _this_ is your solution?"

A sudden anger surged in Mystique. "It was _your idea_ that I learn to fight in the first place!"

"Yes, but I didn't know that he was going to be so…so _barbaric_. Look at you! You're in pain. I don't want to see you like this."

"Sometimes pain is necessary, _Magneto_. If you wanted this to be gentle, _maybe you should have offered to teach me yourself_." Mystique added for extra measure, "I don't _need_ you to protect me all the time, especially since you made it clear yesterday _you don't have the time_ to do it!"

Before Erik could respond, Mystique put her fingers in her mouth and let out an ear-splitting whistle. Erik cringed at the sound and Azazel appeared instantly next to her, holding the cloth bundle from the previous day's training.

"Let's go. _Now._"

* * *

><p>As soon as they appeared in the meadow, Mystique dropped Azazel's arm and stormed away to the shore of the pond. She was furious. How <em>dare<em> Erik. How _dare_ Erik talk about her and make demands on her behalf as if she was a _child_ that needed coddling. She picked up a large stone and threw it in the pond. The violent splash mirrored the turmoil that raged in her heart. She sat down and stared at the ripples in the water, trying to collect her thoughts. There were times - many times - that she felt that Erik's incessant sheltering was making it impossible for her to earn any real respect from her mutant teammates. She was livid with Erik at that moment; for his constant excuses, for trying to make decisions for her, and for making her dependent on him then drifting away when she needed him the most. _God, he was just like Charles sometimes_. She picked up another stone and hurled it into the pond. As the ripples settled, Mystique furrowed her brow in frustration. Deep down inside, she was also angry with herself for constantly seeking out Erik's approval and reassurance. She knew she still used him as a shield for her own insecurities.

After a few moments, she became aware that Azazel was sitting a few feet away from her, gazing at the pond in quiet contemplation. Mystique let out a deep breath and lay back to watch the clouds. She still hurt everywhere, and she felt sick from teleporting, though not as bad as the previous day. She didn't want to be here any more than Erik wanted her to be, but she would be dammed if she gave him the satisfaction of knowing that. Another day with Azazel would be worth it.

Mystique glanced towards her teammate. He was still gazing at the water, and didn't seem to notice her spying. She had spoken more with him in the last two days than in previous six months combined. He still hadn't said much – he remained largely silent and mostly observant – but Mystique was beginning to realize that he was proving to be a rather complex individual. The few times he did speak, his words were usually profoundly insightful. _Or he was laughing at me_. _He probably thinks I am as adorably pathetic as Erik does. _Mystique frowned at this thought.

Azazel produced two apples and handed one to Mystique. She took it without words, sat up and bit into it. They ate in silence.

"Does everyone think I'm weak?"

Azazel did not answer immediately. He continued to chew for a while longer, then turned to face Mystique. He leaned back slightly, using his tail to counterbalance his weight. Mystique felt more at ease with him in a relaxed position. _It's probably harder for him to attack me. Again_.

"_Nyet_, no one thinks you are 'weak.'" Azazel took another bite before continuing, using the apple to gesticulate his point. "They say you are a spoiled brat. There's a difference, I think." Azazel didn't seem to realize, or care to realize, the difference. He continued to eat his apple and gaze at her.

Mystique looked down at the ground. _Fantastic_.

"I didn't ask for any of _this_." Mystique motioned to her body and then sweeping her hands in a general circle around her, implied her life overall. She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Mystique finally settled her eyes back on her fellow mutant and sighed.

"All the opportunity and money I had living with Charles…well, it was Charles's, not mine. You know, I worked as a waitress while he went to college? It wasn't easy, having to hide myself all the time while listening my _stupid_ brother rave about 'mutant equality' day in and out when he had _no idea_ what it was knowing I'll never be accepted by humankind. Not like this." She took a deep breath and threw another stone into the pond. The splash made a dramatic noise that she found somehow comforting.

"It's just…it's just not _fair_."

In response, Azazel shrugged casually. "Life's not fair."

Mystique contemplated his reply. Azazel's mutations were the most obvious of all the Brotherhood members, but while he had no way to hide or blend in, he never seemed angry about the limitations his physical appearance forced upon him. Despite the opportunities denied to Azazel, he always seemed perfectly content with who and what he was. She was jealous of his easy acceptance of his own self.

Mystique combed her fingers through the grass and traced the petals of a small white flower growing near her foot. Glancing sideways at Azazel, she asked timidly, "what do you think of me?"

Azazel silently considered her for a few minutes. She was again surprised to remember how piercingly blue his eyes were. She studied the scars on his face, the soft lines by his eyes. He had seen things she probably couldn't believe, and yet here he is, sitting in a field with her, listening rather politely to her side of things. In _Germany_, of all places. She had to ask him why Germany when she had the chance. Her runaway thoughts were interrupted by his quiet response.

"You remember that day, on the beach?"

"Yes…" _What? Does he really think I could forget?_ The memory of Azazel, poised to drive the fork of his tail into Hank's eye… She hesitated, afraid to ask, but wanting badly to know.

"Azazel? Were you…mad? That I tricked you?"

"I knew it was you, not Sebastian."

Mystique knitted her brow. "But…if you knew…then why did you stop?"

"Because I have seen a lot of things in my life Mystique, but I have _never_ seen anything quite like you." He paused. "You want to know what I think?" She nodded.

"I think you are a lioness who just needs to sharpen her claws."

Mystique slowly smiled at this unexpected compliment. Without another word, Azazel stood and offered Mystique his hand.

* * *

><p>That day they worked on basic defense tactics, how to get out of an enemy's grip and so forth. Mystique noticed that Azazel was being easier on her, but not by much. After a few hours of work, they took a break and he showed her how to stretch to avoid some of the aches and pains she had experienced. While Mystique rested, Azazel took the opportunity to polish one of his short swords.<p>

"How did you learn to fight like this?"

"Practice." Mystique raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for an explanation. He merely shrugged. "Lots of practice."

Mystique was beginning to find that Azazel was fond of avoiding straight answers to any of her questions. She decided to take a different route.

"What about teleporting? How'd you learn that?"

"_Nyet_, I didn't learn it. It comes naturally." Mystique looked at him patiently, and this time he clarified. "When I was young – 13? – I was missing someone very badly. So badly that when I thought about this person hard enough, I found myself in the same place as them. It was a shock to us both. After I learned I could do that, I started practicing moving short distances, then longer." Azazel smiled, briefly lost in the memory. "Now I can go wherever I want, as long as I can picture the place in my mind I want to be."

"Who was it?" Mystique felt bold. It was the most she had ever heard Azazel speak at one time. Azazel considered the sword he was holding for a moment.

"They don't make swords like this anymore, you know that?" He held it up for her to admire. Mystique politely feigned interest and nodded.

"Who was it that you were missing?" Azazel looked at her for a few seconds, then looked away.

"My mother."

"Is your mother…?"

"My parents are dead." Azazel suddenly sounded agitated.

"Oh." Mystique felt awkward. "I'm sorry."

"Come, let us do more work before we need to return."

Mystique nodded and got back on her feet. She knew better than to push him at this point. Her body still ached, but she began to suspect so did Azazel's heart at this moment.

* * *

><p>The two mutants materialized in the lobby of the hotel. Azazel quickly released Mystique's hand and disappeared a second time without a word. He seemed distracted after her questioning, and she was aware that he had carefully limited their remaining verbal interactions to instructions only (more specifically, to him yelling instructions at her). Mystique felt a burn of guilt for his abrupt departure. She reached out into the fading red and black smoke, swirling it around slightly, lost in thought. As she did this, she suddenly noticed Erik seated in a lobby chair, facing her. She widened her eyes in surprise and quickly turned to leave. Erik jumped up and ran to her.<p>

"Raven, _wait_!"

Mystique froze when she heard her name…her _human_ name. She turned to face Erik, who was now right behind her. He placed his hand on her arm, gently holding her back.

"I'm sorry…" Erik's eyes were pleading, "…for the way I acted. Earlier." Casting her eyes toward the ground, Mystique nodded, and then offered him a slight smile.

"I've had time to think, and you're right. I…_we_ all need to take care of each other if this is going to work. You are an independent young woman, and you know what's best for you. I have no right to keep trying to protect you all the time."

Mystique looked up at Erik and smiled openly at his apology.

"Thank you." She then added, "I'm sorry, too."

Erik beamed and put his arm around her shoulders. "Come, I think there is still some dinner left if you are interested? Angel made lasagna. It's pretty good, for Angel's cooking at least."

Mystique let Erik lead her to the kitchen. As they walked out of the lobby, she briefly glanced back over his shoulder to the spot where Azazel stood minutes before. The smoke had dissipated completely, as if he had never been there at all.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The steam from the hot shower encased Mystique like a cocoon. She reveled in the warmth of the raining water and took time massaging the shampoo in her hair. Morning showers had become a ritual for the young mutant. At this point in her life, she felt they were the only thing that gave her a semblance of routine and stability.

Roughly two months had passed since the day Erik apologized to her in the hotel lobby. True to his words, Erik made an effort to stop sheltering her, but she found this added a new level of complexity to their already undefined relationship. She had always thought of herself as "Erik's girl," but Erik had never actually been clear about what he expected from their relationship. Erik was the first man to look upon her rough, reptilian skin and call her beautiful; the first time they lay together she had actually _felt_ beautiful. This blissful, intense acceptance had been part of the catalyst that made her walk away from Charles and the others that fateful day.

_Erik loves me_, she told herself as she rinsed the lather from her hair. Mystique did not doubt she was loved, but it was _what_ Erik loved about her that weighed heavily on her mind. As he worked to recruit for the Brotherhood's ranks, Erik seemed most impressed with individuals whose mutations and powers were the most _different_, seeing how his own mutation was invisible. Mystique sometimes wondered if Erik loved her for her, or for what she represented: as the most exotic looking of his team, his choice of her for his lover proved his solidarity with his fellow mutants._ Or does he love me because I am his last connection to Charles?_ Mystique shook the water from her hair and tried banished this idea, although sometimes, late at night when her thoughts drifted to her brother, she wondered the same thing about her need for Erik.

The Brotherhood's activities had intensified, and their missions were becoming increasingly dangerous. Just two weeks prior, Janos and Angel returned from a mission with cuts so deep that both mutants required stitches; on more than one occasion, Mystique sprinted to the lobby to greet her returning teammates only to find Azazel casually wiping blood off his swords as if it was an everyday activity. Whenever she saw this, she would have nightmares for days afterward, waking up in a cold sweat believing she was falling through an endless sky. Erik and Emma were often gone from headquarters for days at a time, and this did not sit well with Mystique's concerns regarding Erik's heart. She didn't pretend to be ignorant to the attention Emma lavished on Erik, and even armed with Erik's reassurances, the blue mutant couldn't help but feel ugly when compared to her sparkling teammate.

As the hot water beaded on Mystique's face, her thoughts gradually drifted to Azazel. Despite a few unexpected compliments from him, Mystique was still keenly aware that as quickly as Azazel could flash a smile, he could also end a life with the flash of a blade. They continued to train several times weekly, and Mystique's combat abilities had grown tremendously. She could also better predict Azazel's movements during practice, although she had yet to actually succeed in physically _hitting_ him during their sessions. Azazel finally started teaching her sword work, which was much more difficult than she anticipated. The first day he handed her a wooden weapon, she attempted to downplay her nervousness with teasing, coyly smiling and asking if Azazel was afraid _he'd_ get hurt if she had a real sword. His response was to roll up one of his sleeves and show her the brutal crisscross of scars that marred his arm, and tell her simply that he was afraid she'd hurt herself. He did this with such seriousness that she never made light of swordplay again. Still, she was pleased with her progress, even if Azazel still intimidated her. He was too quiet, too hard to read, and seem to enjoy the Brotherhood's missions a bit _too_ _much_ at times.

Charles once told Mystique that the ancient Mesopotamians bequeathed the names Tigris and Euphrates to the raging rivers as a way to conquer their fear of nature. _Giving names and meaning to the things that frighten us the most is the best way to conquer our fears, dear sister_. In their time training she tried countless tactics to get Azazel to talk, but he always cleverly dodged her inquires and had a way of answering with smiles and shrugs that left her pulling her hair in frustration. She cataloged what she actually knew about him: his favorite color was green, he could use his tail as well as his arms and legs (this, she learned the hard way, earning an unplanned swim in the pond), he liked Edgar Degas's drawings better than his paintings, he drank coffee every morning, he knew all the words to _Runaround Sue_ (she suspected he liked American music far more than he let on), and he could speak three languages fluently (Russian, English and German), although he preferred Russian. Other than this and some random observations, her fellow mutant remained largely a mystery.

The water shut off with a definitive hiss and Mystique grabbed a towel to rub her scales dry. Her head felt clearer, and a quick glance at the wall clock let her know it was almost time for practice.

* * *

><p>"Tell me your name."<p>

Mystique was on the balls of her feet, hefting her wooden blade and ready to dodge Azazel's advance. She had a few days of sword work under her belt, and with each session, she was getting better. She was also feeling bold again. "Your _human_ name."

Azazel walked carefully around her, stalking and calculating his next move. He was downright cat-like when he did this. Mystique had learned to watch his feet to judge the direction of his advance. Even if the swords were wooden, they still stung when they made contact. Thankfully, he hadn't started teleporting during their training…_yet._

"My _what_?"

Mystique dodged a thrust, rolled and stood up, back on the balls of her feet, sword in hand fending him off. Azazel gave her an appreciative nod, then motioned for her to come at him.

"What's your human name? Before you became Azazel?"

Azazel regarded her suspiciously, looking at her straight down his blade. He took a few steps to her left, and then came at her quickly on the right. She ducked and jumped to the side, missing his strike by inches. Azazel nodded again in praise.

"My name is…well, was Raven. Raven Darkhölme." She looked at Azazel expectantly. After a few seconds, he lowered his sword and collapsed into a theatrical bow.

"It's nice to meet you, Raven."

Mystique waited patiently. Azazel only grinned and brought his sword back to the ready. He motioned with his free hand for her to attempt an advance. Mystique sighed in frustration.

"Not even your first name, huh?"

He stroked his beard for a few seconds, considering her request.

"Azazel," he responded iniquitously, then flashed Mystique a dazzling smile.

_Damn him. _

She was distracted a second too long. He came at her from the left, forcing her only escape route to be blocked by a tree. Before she could change tactics, Azazel had his blade against her neck and his knee in her stomach, forcing her to hit the tree hard. She was trapped. _Fuck_.

"With you I will make a deal." He looked down at her, inches from her face, his expression both mischievous and depraved. _He's too damn tall_, thought Mystique, as she waited for this deal to be struck and her breath to return. When it came to training, Azazel hadn't been kidding when he promised he wouldn't go easy on her.

"You hit me, actually _hit_ me with your fist or sword, and I will tell you my name. My _human_ name. But you must _earn_ it." With that, he backed down and held out his hand, inviting for her to come fight once more.

* * *

><p>Shortly after they returned from practice, Erik called a team meeting in the private lobby. Mystique took her regular seat on the couch next to Angel. Emma and Janos sat on the opposing couch, and Azazel stood behind, just off to Janos's side. Erik stood at the head of the coffee table with a rolled map under his arm.<p>

"Welcome brothers and sisters…"

Erik always began his speeches this way. It seemed a bit forced and awkward, considering that there were only six mutants present including Erik, and they had all lived together for months. Mystique supposed the phrase would serve well once their ranks expanded. She waved away this thought and focused her attention.

Erik launched into a prepared, well-rehearsed speech. Mystique was always impressed with his abilities as an orator. He understood the art of taking a simple plan and weaving it into a grand vision, enticing others to want to adopt it as their own. It was easy to become swayed by Erik's passion and promises. As he spoke, Mystique discretely inventoried her teammates. Emma's expressions were always hard to interpret. She listened to Erik with a look of polite interest frozen on her face, nodding at the right moments and smiling at others. Mystique had a nagging feeling that Emma knew the plan before Erik spoke, and not just from reading his thoughts. Janos, on the other hand, wasn't listening at all, safe in the knowledge that Erik or Angel would translate the plan to him later in a language he could more easily understand. Janos was very smart, and Mystique knew he understood English far better than she originally assumed. Angel once told her that Janos was so quiet because he was afraid of making mistakes while speaking. Janos kept glancing sideways at Azazel, and he seemed distracted. Azazel was listening intently to Erik, his eyes narrowed in concentration and his tail slowly swishing back and forth. Mystique had learned one thing about Azazel that he hadn't meant to tell anyone; his tail was a clear gauge for his level of interest in any conversation. Angel, like Mystique, was easily swayed by Erik's words. It also didn't hurt that Erik was attractive, powerful, and male. She wondered sometimes if that's why Angel switched to Shaw's side. Once Charles and Moira started growing closer and Darwin made it clear he was not looking for companionship, Angel seemed disenchanted with the previous group. Angel had a real talent for meeting and charming men of means.

"…we will strike in a week's time. Due to the nature of this mission, only Emma, Azazel and myself will be involved. We leave in three days."

Mystique bit her lower lip. She was a hurt to hear her name left out of the roster. Just a few days before, she helped Erik secure the very map he now placed back under his arm. He had asked her to pose as a solider at the nearby air force base. It had been a rather pleasant experience – an oddity for a Brotherhood mission. They took the car instead of asking Azazel to transport them. The drive had been a few hours out into the desert, and Erik had even suggested they stop for dinner at a drive-in on the way back. Erik had been his old self that day; relaxed, jovial, and deceptively carefree. Mystique even played a game with the waitress, changing her hair color each time the poor woman came to their car. Erik had a hard time not laughing as the woman looked like she was losing her mind. Mystique frowned as she watched the three leave the lobby to discuss the mission's details in the kitchen. Her annoyance was interrupted by Janos's giggling and quiet exclamation, "_va bien!"_

Angel raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

"_¿Qué es 'va bien'?_"

Janos replied with a triumphant smile, dangling a tiny oval locket from his fingers. Angel signed and rubbed her temples.

"Really Janos? This shit _again_?"

Mystique peered at the locket. Janos, undeterred by Angel's disgust, held it out for Mystique to better inspect. She took it from him and turned it over carefully in her hands. It was delicate, silver and ornately carved. It seemed to be quite old, and the chain it hung on had been amateurly repaired in several places.

"Where is it from?"

"Not _where_, _who_." Mystique looked puzzled, prompting Angel to continue.

"Some stupid game he and Red have. They nick shit off of each other, get pissed, and then laugh about it a few days later. Janos thinks he got something good, to make up for that time when Red stole all of Janos's clothing for two days." Angel paused to think about this for a moment. "It's not really fair because he can do that teleporting thing anywhere. Men," Angel rolled her eyes, locking her stare on Janos, "…_boys_, are idiots in what they find funny."

Mystique suddenly remembered the morning she started training with Azazel. _That's right; Janos looked like he was wearing Angel's shirt_. Mystique felt for a clasp and opened the locket. Inside was a faded black and white photo of a young woman. She had dark hair that fell in thick tangles of waves, a heart-shaped mouth and large, pale eyes. Something about the portrait reminded Mystique of the wild ponies that lived in the desert scrub not too far from their headquarters; tame enough that she could walk right up to them, but still so wild that they would shy and bolt when she tried to touch them. Despite the woman's timid smile, there was a sadness in her eyes that Mystique couldn't quite place. Angel stole a look at the photo over Mystique's shoulder. She let out a low whistle.

"Never woulda guess Red had himself a sweetheart."

Mystique wondered who the woman was. For some reason, part of her wished it wasn't a love interest. She's too…_normal_ looking. _Azazel of all people knows what it's like to look…well, to look different_. Mystique thought of all the questions she had pestered him with over the past few weeks, and his noncommittally answers. She was suddenly struck with the idea that maybe this woman knew those answers. _Maybe that's why she looks so sad_. Mystique closed the locket and handed it back to Janos, who quickly concealed it in a pocket. Angel stood up and stretched her iridescent wings.

"Well, _fuck them_ if they want to be all secretive, let's do something fun. Hey, I got some new records yesterday. You guys ever hear of _The Beatles_?"

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: Just in case anyone is wondering…<em>

_History: the Cuban Missile Crisis took place in October 1962. This story starts six months later in April 1963. By Chapter 5, the time line is at mid-June 1963._

_Music: the singer Dion's song _Runaround Sue_ was a national hit in 1961. The Beatles released the album _Please Please Me_ in March 1963 and became an international sensation. _

_Just for fun: I make it a point to add subtle details to make my chapters link-up, so I do recommend periodically rereading the previous chapters for full enjoyment. For example, careful readers might remember that in Chapter 3, Mystique caught Janos wearing a pink shirt at breakfast and giving Azazel a nasty look. In Chapter 5, we find out that Azazel stole Janos's clothes as part of the little "game" they have. Be on the look-out for fun little details like that :)_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Ted Bishop's clearance badge swung freely in time with his steps as he briskly walked towards the front of the office. He nodded politely at his office mates as he passed their desks, and he gave a warm smile to the young girl working the reception desk. Ted approached the door of the executive washroom, swiped his clearance badge, and once inside, carefully locked the door behind him. He let out a deep breath and turned to face the mirror.

The weight of his life – his 46 years, three children, and one failing marriage – hung on him like the wrinkled beige suit he donned that morning. Ted's reflection revealed the exhaustion in his eyes, the frown lines forming around his mouth, and the thinning hair from stress and heredity. He concentrated on his image in the mirror for a few seconds, scowled and then with trembling hands, splashed cold water on his face. As he patted his face dry, he studied his reflection again, but this time he was able to see the frightened girl hidden in the depth his eyes. Ted's skin quivered in a fluid motion, and his face transformed into its true state. Mystique sighed and stared into the mirror, tentatively touching her familiar reptilian skin for reassurance. She hated losing herself in these false identities, even if she was on a mission.

* * *

><p>It turned out they needed her help after all.<p>

Erik's lead on a covert government project regarding "containing" the mutant population needed more information before he, Emma, and Azazel could safely follow through with the main operation. Erik and Emma had confirmed the existence of a set of critical files at a top-secret CIA compound in Fort Worth, Texas. They also identified Theodore "Ted" Bishop, a high-ranking executive agent, as someone who would have access to the facility. The plan was simple: imitating Bishop, Mystique would infiltrate the office and retrieve the necessary files. However, the heavily guarded building presented a problem for the young mutant - she was still inexperienced in high-risk situations, and for this mission, she had to go alone.

Azazel, Emma, Janos, and Mystique arrived at Bishop's home the morning of the mission. The instant they materialized, Emma used her powers to suggest that the mutants invisible to the humans, and she quickly convinced Bishop's wife to take her children on an impromptu visit to family upstate. After their departure, Emma made Bishop believe he was getting ready for work to allow Mystique to copy his form and voice. Emma then lulled Bishop in a deep sleep and Janos bound and gagged him in the bathroom. Thanks to Emma's telepathy and Janos's whirlwinds, Bishop's family would return to find him tied-up and the house badly ransacked in a "robbery" – the perfect cover for the mutants' involvement. After returning Janos to headquarters, Azazel transported Mystique and Emma to the roof of the CIA compound in Texas.

This mission was an extremely dangerous. The compound in Fort Worth was rumored to be decisively anti-mutant in its security and activities. Mystique knew that she would have to be stealth to accomplish her goal. She maintained her true form until they landed on the roof to join Erik, who had already taken care of the rooftop snipers. Whereas Azazel and Emma appeared stoic and almost excited to see action, Erik appeared on edge, with noticeable sweat beaded on his brow. Mystique was also anxious, but tried her best not to show it. The team was counting on her.

"Ok Mystique, just like we discussed," Erik was giving her a brief recap of the plan, possibly more for his own calming benefit than hers. "Get in, get the information, get out. Don't stay any longer than you need too. Get back up here and we'll get you and go home. If anything goes wrong – _anything_ – let Emma know _immediately_. Send her a picture of where you are in the building and Azazel and will come get you. I'll be here too if you need me."

"Magneto, I _know_, we've gone over this a _thousand times_." Mystique tried to sound confident, but inside she was quaking. Unconsciously, she was still clutching Azazel's hand in a vice-like grip from the last teleport. As his "apprentice," Azazel had taken a keen interest this particular assignment. He had spent well over three hours the day before prepping Mystique in tactics to release herself from an enemy's hold, disabling weapons, surprise attacks and so for, until Mystique wanted to put her hands over her ears and scream. Now, standing on the roof and ready to go live, she wished she could recall more of their training…

_She rubbed her wrist gingerly where Azazel showed her how to apply pressure to make one's opponent release a weapon. _

"_Do you really think all this is necessary? I mean, I've done spy missions before - wear a disguise, get the information, get out. It's really not that hard." Azazel shook his head. _

"_This is not like the other times. These men of the government will be armed. Unless between now and tomorrow you gain Magneto's powers, disguises will not do much against bullets. Best focus on taking the gun so you are the one with bullets."_

"_You talk like I am going to have to kill someone tomorrow." Mystique had yet to hit anyone, let alone _kill_ anyone. The thought of killing someone still made her uneasy. Azazel looked at her sharply. Mystique hated that look on his face, like he was trying to reason with a child. _

"_I've seen what these men of the government do when they get their hands on mutants like us. You take no chances. Come, again I show you…" _

"Mystique, you need to let go."

Mystique snapped back to the present. Azazel was gazing at her ardently. It took Mystique a second to realize that it was Azazel who had whispered to her because she was still clutching his hand. As if reading her mind, Azazel squeezed her hand and smiled reassuringly. Taking a deep breath, she let go and transformed.

* * *

><p>Despite Erik's instructions of "don't stay any longer than you need to," upon arrival, Ted was whisked away into a series of meetings that lasted most of the morning. Mystique sat through three plus hours of corporate <em>bullshitting<em> before she could escape to the washroom and redirect her focus. Her nervousness was making it harder to maintain her disguise, and a slip-up in this facility could easily cost her life. Mystique put Ted's skin back on and exited the washroom.

"Teddy, why are you carrying your badge?" A young woman with glasses ambushed Mystique as she exited the washroom.

"Huh? What?"

"Your identification badge – you are supposed to pin it to your suit. Here, let me help you, I know they can be _tricky_."

With that the woman grabbed Ted's badge. Mystique braced herself and felt the sharp pin pierce her skin near her collarbone where she made Ted's suit fold. It exited quickly and thankfully, with a well-timed comment about the day's weather, the young woman was distracted and failed to notice the blood. Mystique excused herself, and concentrated on her blood to make the trickle the same shade of beige as Ted's suit. Gritting her teeth, Mystique was become excellent at suppressing tears.

After exploring the facility for an hour, Mystique found the correct file room (after several office missions, Mystique had no idea how people could work in places like this. The stuffy air, the boring people, the fake plants; it was times like this that she wondered why she ever envied humans at all.). With a swipe of Ted's high-level clearance card, Mystique silently slipped into the secret room.

"Sentinel, sentinel…" Mystique mumbled in Bishop's voice as she combed through the file cabinets. Erik hadn't told her the details on the project, but whatever it was, it was serious enough that he had spent a few sleepless days pondering it. After the way the CIA reacted to the mutants on the beach – even the mutants like her and Charles who had _saved_ the world from nuclear disaster – she no longer believed in the inherent good of people. All Erik knew about the "sentinel" project was that it was the code name for something far more dangerous that any of them imagined. _After all, _Erik said the day before_, it's only a matter of time before they round us up and experiment on us too_. She suddenly recalled Azazel's similar statement – "_I've seen what these men of the government do when they get their hands on mutants like us" – _and shuddered at the though of what these two men might have seen. The clock was ticking; Mystique put aside these thoughts and focused on finding the files.

_Ah, here we go_. Mystique smiled and pulled out a thick set of manila folders labeled "Project Sentinel." She flipped through them and smiled triumphantly. Mystique closed the file drawer with a metallic click and turned to exit the room.

"_Freeze_!"

Mystique startled at the command. She whipped around to find herself facing two armed guards, their guns drawn. She clutched the files to her chest. _Fuck, fuck, fuck!_ Mystique stood with her mouth agape, looking for words to excuse Ted's actions. One guard looked at the files Mystique held.

"You had better come with us."

Mystique nodded and made it out like she was going to follow them. When they turned, she bolted in the opposite direction. The momentary delay from the guards was enough to give her a decent head start. _If I can just get to the roof…_

Mystique twisted and turned around the file room, dodging sparks of light that she would later remember as bullets. After a few turns, she found a one-way door that opened to a back corridor. The guards followed her in pursuit. As she skidded around a turn at the end of the hallway, she came to another door and threw her weight against it. Nothing. _Come on, come on, come on_! Mystique panicked. The door was locked, and the footsteps of the guards were swiftly closing in on her. She was trapped.

"_Put your hands up_!"

Mystique turned away from the door and saw the two guards with their weapons drawn._ Fuck, fuck…I fucked it up! Everyone will be so pissed!_ A sudden anger surged in Mystique. _No, not like this. I'm not going disappoint my teammates_. She dropped the files she had been cradling. Mystique held up her hands in a surrender gesture, and concentrated on her surroundings, relaying a message to Emma. Before she could complete her thought, one of the guards advanced on her.

_Well, it's now or never_.

Whatever the guards were expecting Ted to do, they certainly weren't expecting his face to peel away into that of a young blue woman's. Mystique used their shock to her advantage. She quickly swept the leg of her closest opponent, causing him to fall to his knees, and while the other guard was still distracted from her transformation, she twisted and aimed a kick to his face. Her foot fell short and made contact with his throat, knocking him backwards and leaving him grasping for breath. Mystique quickly changed her form to become the man lying on the ground, causing the guard on his knees to hesitate firing his gun just long enough for her to grab his wrist and twist the weapon out of his hand. Without faltering, she bashed the handle of the gun across the bridge of his nose. He screamed, blood spurting everywhere, and he fell to the ground.

"_You monstrous bitch_!"

The second guard was back up and before Mystique could react, a fist collided with her jaw, splitting her bottom lip. She flew backwards against the wall, and her disguise faded back into her true form. She landed hard on her side, and she looked up from the ground breathless at the guard stood over her. He cocked his gun and took aim at her face.

In the same instant, Mystique heard a distinct _whoosh_ of air and the guard's expression changed to one of agonized surprise. A silver blade protruded through the man's chest, and as he crumpled to the ground, she saw Azazel towering over the fallen guard. His expression was merciless and cold. He quickly withdrew his sword and brought it down again, cleaning slicing through the throat of second guard behind him. In a heartbeat, two lives were ended. Azazel quickly surveyed the corridor before sheathing his weapon. When he saw Mystique lying on the floor, his fierceness melted instantly.

"_Devochka_?" He quickly stepped over the discarded files and knelt next to Mystique, helping her into a sitting position. He held her by her shoulders and carefully searched her face to determine the extent of her injuries.

"I'm ok, really, just winded is all." She smiled to show that she was telling the truth and her split lip dripped blood down her chin. Azazel took his handkerchief and gently dabbed the blood off her face. _It's a bit intense how quickly he can switch from killer to caretaker_, thought Mystique, although she appreciated the concern and the chance to catch her breath.

"Did you…did _you_ do _this_?"

Mystique hadn't even seen Erik standing in the hallway. Azazel acted too quickly to give Erik a chance. Erik was looking at the evidence of the scuffle and was now holding the precious stolen files. Mystique nodded and held up the gun she wrestled away from her opponent. Erik nodded to Azazel who quickly disappeared with the guards' bodies. He sat next to Mystique and brushed her hair back.

"I am _so proud_ of you." Mystique smiled again, her split lip burning. Azazel returned, and putting his hands on her and Erik's shoulders, they disappeared from the hallway. As they vanished, Mystique couldn't help but think: _Erik went to the files before he went to me_.

* * *

><p>In the past few months, Erik instituted a tradition that Angel playfully dubbed "Family Dinners." Once a week, Erik required the Brotherhood members to sit down and eat together. This act gave the team a chance to relax around each other, discuss plans and forge deeper mutant bonds. Dinner that night was a celebration for Mystique's successful mission, and she was touched that her favorite cuisine – Indian - was served.<p>

Mystique sat between Janos and Erik and across from Angel, showing the three the finer points of using _naan_ as a utensil. Janos looked at his curry suspiciously, like it was going to kill him. Angel, on the other hand, was ecstatic to try anything she considered "cultured," and Erik was pleasantly open-minded. Emma and Azazel seemed to understand the finer points of eating Indian food. _Emma_, Mystique noted wistfully, _makes any activity look elegant and effortless_. With the occasional sideways glances the two gave each other, Mystique figured Emma and Azazel were silently discussing how silly the learners looked spilling rice and curry everywhere.

After the meal, the teammates went their separate ways and Mystique and Erik cleaned the kitchen. If there was one truly great leadership trait Erik had, it was that he never shied from or delegated mundane work. As they cleaned, Mystique thanked Erik for this thoughtfulness in getting Indian food for dinner.

"Oh, it was Azazel's idea." Erik's answer was nonchalant. Mystique paused washing a bowl and looked at him in surprise. Erik shrugged. "I guess you were talking about curry the other day and how much you missed it."

Mystique thought back to her last lesson in the meadow. She had been trying to get him to open up as usual, but Azazel surprised her by asking her what she missed most about her previous life as Raven. She rambled on about her favorite curry shop in London for about an hour before noticing an impious smiled on his face as if he had tricked her. She suspected that he had asked her as a means to get her to stop questioning him.

Emma entered the kitchen and she and Erik began to talk about their upcoming mission. Mystique took the opportunity to slip away to the third floor. She had met Azazel at the door of his room a few times, although she had never been invited inside. She knocked on his door and listened to the creak of bed springs and approaching footfalls. The door opened halfway and Azazel's face appeared. He smiled at the recognition of Mystique, and leaned easily against the door frame. Black frames rimmed his pale blue eyes. Before she could help it, she laughed out loud.

"Are you wearing _reading_ glasses?" He quickly removed the frames, and played off her comment.

"Not all of us are so young anymore, _devochka_." He held up a thick leather bound book with tiny print as if to justify the glasses. Mystique smiled and he tucked the book under his arm. _Times like these he didn't seem scary at all_.

They both stared at each other for a moment, lost in their own personal thoughts. Mystique suddenly remembered why she was there.

"Hey, I just wanted you to know that I couldn't have done today without you. You know, all the training and stuff." _Damn it_. Mystique wished her words sounded as elegant coming out of her mouth as they did when she composed them in her head. Azazel gave her a half-smile and waved his hand dismissively.

"I haven't taught you anything you didn't already know." Azazel tapped his index finger on his temple. "Today, with those men…your anger...it helped you remain in control. Remember that." Azazel then did something completely unexpected. He reached out placed his thumb and forefinger around her chin, tilting her face up to meet his gaze. He studied her admiringly.

"Your wounds have almost healed."

"Yeah, neat trick huh? The same genes that allow me to change my skin also let me heal me quickly. At least, that's what Hank – a friend from _before_ - told me once."

"Too bad I don't have the same luck, _nyet_?" He said, motioning with his free hand to the jagged scar running down left of his face.

"Oh no! I think it's handsome."

Azazel raised an eyebrow, amused at her candid statement. Mystique felt her face flush and quickly cast her eyes to the ground. _Idiot_, she scolded herself internally. _What was I thinking, saying that_? Azazel's fingers were still on her chin, but now he lightly brushed his thumb along her lower lip. Mystique closed her eyes and suddenly felt like a jar of butterflies had opened in her stomach. When she looked back up, he was not looking into her eyes, but intensely studying where her injury had been. He paused and put slight pressure on her middle of her bottom lip with his thumb. _I've seen this look before_…she shook her head slightly and refocused.

"I wanted to say thank you for…"

"Azazel!" Erik's voice boomed down the hallway. Both of Azazel and Mystique jumped at the sound. Azazel quickly removed his hand from Mystique's face, as if he was caught doing something wrong. He then frowned, and appeared annoyed that their conversation was interrupted. Erik excused himself and asked Azazel to join he and Emma in the kitchen.

Mystique wandered back to her room and took a seat at the vanity. She opened her music box and watched the tiny dancer twirl to the tinny music. She gently fingered the little ballerina, and smiled at the figure's chipping paint; Charles had clumsily painted the ballerina blue for her after a particularly bad day. _Oh, Charles_. She gazed at her reflection in the mirror, and her eye was drawn to the photo of the old group at the CIA headquarters. Mystique took the photo down and studied it carefully. She was surprised that she didn't immediately recognize her own face – _Raven's_ face - in the photo. She looked back in the mirror and recreated the blond hair and porcelain mask that she had hidden behind for most of her life. She touched Raven's face, but the skin felt funny to her, foreign and cold. She transformed back to her true form and scrutinized her blue scales.

_How long did I spend hating this reflection, and now anything else feels wrong?_ On a whim, she touched the spot on her chin where Azazel had placed his fingers, and she thought about butterflies. Ever since the day he called her a "lioness," she hadn't seen him do anything that…_intimate_ towards her. _For a second there, it looked like…like he wanted to _kiss_ me. _Mystique shook her head at the notion. _Azazel kissing me…what a silly thought_. Silly or not, it did not stop her from blushing, and guiltily remembering just how incredibly gently he traced his thumb along her lower lip. She wondered if, when Azazel touched her face, he thought their combined skin colors were as visually striking as she found the contrast of his eyes to his crimson skin.

Mystique felt restless. She tried reading a book, but she was still charged from the events of her day. Leaving her room, she wandered around the floors of the private hotel. She climbed to the roof and watched the stars, then made her way to the ballroom where Janos and Angel were playing records. They invited her to join them, but she wasn't in the mood. Mystique went to the kitchen where Erik, Emma, and Azazel were drinking coffee and reviewing the files Mystique secured. Erik and Emma were seated at the table talking softly, and Azazel was standing over a map, studying it intensely. Mystique discreetly filled a glass with water and turned to leave, so as not to disrupt their discussion. As she did so, she found that Azazel was no longer studying the map, but looking directly at her. He caught her eye for a brief second. He carefully mouthed the words, "you are welcome" and smiled.

Later, when Mystique finally fell asleep that night, she didn't dream that she was falling; rather, she was flying.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"I'm _BORED_."

Angel was lazily draped over a couch in the lounge, drying her freshly polished nails by gently fluttering her wings. Mystique's hair stirred slightly from the breeze, forcing her to tuck it behind her ears every so often. Erik, Emma, and Azazel had been gone for three days.

"Let's do _something_."

"What do you want to do?" Mystique sat on the floor idly flipping through a fashion magazine, not really looking at any of the pages. She attempted reading a book that Azazel left for her the day after her mission, but it was dense and philosophical and she simply was too distracted to really concentrate. He had taken to leaving books on various topics outside of her door whenever he was away on missions reasoning that, "just because I am away doesn't mean you can stop training."

"I don't know. Something not involving sitting here on our asses."

"Want to go down to the Hellfire Club?" Mystique suggested, turning a page and eying a silver sequin dress.

"Nah, we did that last night."

"Want to practice training in the ballroom?"

"Mysty, I said I'm _bored_ now, I don't want to be more _bored_ a few hours from now, too."

Janos sat at the coffee table shuffling a deck of cards. He cut it a few times and then dealt the cards out before him in traditional solitaire rows. With a gentle rotation of his hand, Janos started to twist the cards in the air in a slow, languid funnel. Mystique continued to flip through her magazine, occasionally glancing up to watch Janos's growing funnel. Suddenly, Angel sat up and snapped her fingers.

"Dancing. That's it! Let's hit some dance clubs on the strip. This place is _b-o-r-e-d_ city!"

She translated her idea to Janos and he nodded and collected his cards back into their pack. Angel looked expectantly at Mystique. The blue mutant shrugged her shoulders.

"Alright, dancing sounds fun." _It sounds like something that will get me out of here for a few hours_. Mystique was worried. Their teammates had been gone for too long without word. She was worried about Erik, especially after how nervous he appeared during the last mission. She knew the details of this operation, and while she hadn't thought the mission would be quick, three days seemed like a long time to be gone, especially when they have a teleporter with them. Mystique found her thoughts drifting to Azazel. She was worried about him too, a little.

"You planning on going out like…_that_?"

"Hmmm?" Mystique's thoughts had distracted her from Angel's question. Angel motioned to Mystique's body.

"Mysty, love you blue but the world ain't gonna. Sorry babe." Angel was already flattening her wings to her body, making them appear as nothing more than exotic tattoos.

Mystique grinned. Her teammates accepted her true form without hesitation, but she knew Angel was right. There was no way she'd be able to walk outside the hotel without disguising her mutation. Mystique thought briefly about all the faces she'd grown since joining the Brotherhood. With Charles, it had been easy - she was simply the cute blonde. Here she was constantly changing faces to deceive, infiltrate, and accomplish missions. She had to learn to be so many different people that it was amazing she didn't lose herself at times. Mystique concentrated on her skin. _Who should I become tonight_?

As Mystique pondered this, she suddenly thought about the woman from Azazel's locket. Closing her eyes, she remembered the waves of ebony curls, the porcelain skin, and the large, soulful eyes. Then she imagined a short, shimmering dress from her now discarded magazine. When she felt confident in her physical form, she opened her eyes. Janos nodded appreciatively and Angel clapped.

"Not bad! She's a new one. I like the dress."

"Thanks!"

Angel linked her arms through Janos and Mystique's arms. "Come on. Let's make this a night to remember!"

* * *

><p>The music beat throughout her entire body. Mystique chewed on an ice cube and enjoyed the colorful interplay of lights from her seat on a lounge couch in front of the dance floor. They visited four clubs before Angel decided this was a "good one." Mystique differed to Angel when it came to clubs. Charles and she only visited pubs, and even then, it was often the same pub repeatedly. Angel seemed to know what qualified as a <em>good<em> club. Mostly, Mystique thought, she judged clubs on the amount of seemingly lonely men with money to burn. Angel was currently working her charm on one of those lonely men at the bar.

Janos approached Mystique with two colorful drinks. He handed one to Mystique and clinked his glass against it after she accepted.

"_¡Salud!"_ She eyed her glass warily, but took a sip. The drink was surprisingly sweet and minty, and tasted much more pleasant than she would have guessed. After joining the Brotherhood, Mystique was pleasantly surprised to discover that she enjoyed social drinking, and she had even mastered the ability to stay in disguise while consuming alcohol. Charles was always so worried she'd "slip-up" at the pubs they frequented that he made her too nervous to enjoy drinking. Things were certainly different now.

"_¿Qué…es esta_, um…_bebida_?" Mystique held up her drink. Janos laughed and enthusiastically, applauding her attempt.

"_¡Bueno! Es una _Grasshopper_."_

"Grasshopper?"

"_Si, una_ Grasshopper!" As if to prove his point, Janos did a mock imitation of a grasshopper jumping. Mystique almost spilled her drink laughing. Janos grinned at her and threw back his glass. Angel sauntered over, smiling triumphantly. She waved a handful of bills at them.

"Piece of cake. Jan, baby, buy us ladies a drink?" Janos smiled and took Angel's hand, kissing it and bowing dramatically as if she was royalty. Angel giggled and pursed her lips at him. When he let go of her hand, the money was gone.

"_Boys_!" Angel hopped over the couch and slid down next to Mystique. If there was one thing they could count on with Angel, it was her ability to charm men and relieve them of their money. They never had to worry about buying drinks with Angel around. Mystique began to think that if Angel was part of Janos and Azazel's little game, she'd win, if that were possible. _I wonder what he, Erik, and Emma are doing right now_. Angel gave Mystique a tipsy smile, reached over and brushed back Mystique's dark curls over her shoulder.

"Oh, Mysty…don't worry about Magneto. He'll be fine. If Red can't stop 'em, Emma's _cold bitch on wheels _attitude will." She giggled at her own joke, and her throaty laughter caught the attention of a man standing at the bar.

Mystique sighed and looked down at her drink, swirling the green liquid in its glass. She would have to work on better concealing her thoughts.

"I know. I can't help it. I just feel like they should be back by now, or at least they should have sent Azazel back to update us on what's going on."

"I bet they'll be back by the time we get home."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I'm sure they're bored without the three of us to keep them entertained." Angel smirked.

"Is this…is this how you thought it would be?"

"Is what how I thought it would be? The club? It's cool."

"No, the Brotherhood." Mystique turned to face Angel, her expression serious. "When you left and joined Shaw…" Mystique realized too late it was an awkward way to start. She took a breath and continued. "When you left to join Shaw, did you think we'd be here? That this would be our life?" Angel considered Mystique for a long moment before answering.

"Honey, I don't know what I expected." She finally admitted as she began fiddling with the fringe on her dress. "I just wanted to do _something_. I was tired of taking my clothes off for money. I was tired of pretending my wings were tattoos. To hide my abilities all the while pretending I was some dumb _whore_…" Angel paused. "It's not fair. We shouldn't have to hide what we are. Charles…he's a good cat Mysty, and I know you love him, but he wanted us to hide until _everyone else_ was ready to accept us. Well, I'm done with that shit. Shaw wanted change _now_, and so does Magneto. Janos doesn't want to hide his abilities, and lord knows Red's probably sick of hiding himself. Can you imagine? At least we," she motioned to Janos, Mystique and herself, "can blend in. Poor Red can't even walk down the street or come to a club like this and dream of being accepted. Well, I'm tired of it and what we're doing in the Brotherhood – that's gonna shake. Shit. _UP_!"

Mystique sipped her drink and thought about her second day of training with Azazel, when she contemplated his physical mutations. True, her natural appearance was also extreme, but her abilities allowed her to look _normal_ whenever she wanted. She couldn't truly imagine what kind of limits his appearance placed on social interactions, never mind opportunities or experiences. Still, he never once talked about his mutations negatively.

"Well, at least Azazel doesn't seem to be that mad about how he looks."

"Shit, Red wouldn't change a damn thing about himself. The only time I seen him get mad – I mean, _really _get mad - was that time the coffee maker was broken and Magneto took his sweet time getting a new one." Angel paused and seemed to recall the memory for a few seconds. "Actually, that was kinda a scary week. Caffeine withdrawal seems like a bitch."

Angel blew a kiss to a stranger at the bar. The man pretended to catch it. Mystique raised her eyebrow at Angel's playful behavior.

"Doesn't Janos…get mad when you do that?"

"Janos?" Angel looked seriously at Mystique for a confused moment, and then burst into laughter. "Oh, Mystique…Janos likes _boys_. You didn't know that?" She howled with laughter.

_Janos likes_…wow, thought Mystique. That was eye-opening. Angel recovered just as Janos returned with a fresh round of drinks. She recounted the conversation to Janos, and he acknowledged the truth with shrugged shoulders as he handed Mystique her drink. He raised his glass, and Mystique gave a shy smile and returned the gesture. _I guess Janos really knows what it's like to be different._

"What about you?" Angel motioned around the club in an exaggerated fashion, "is this all you dared to hope and dream?"

"Yes and no. I wanted to be part of something greater than myself. I'm tired of hiding too, and I want to be able to have the same rights as everyone else. I think that's what we're going to do with the Brotherhood, soon enough. And after the government attacked us – all of us – after Shaw died…" anger flared up in Mystique. She bit down on an ice cube to calm herself before continuing. "I don't trust anyone associated with the government. Magneto understands this, and his vision of the future – one of mutant equality at any cost – it's really what I've wanted my whole life. But…at the same time, I do miss the others. Sean, Alex, Hank…and Charles, of course."

"Ooo, I miss that Alex. He looked like he woulda been one hell of a ride!" At Angel's omission, Mystique laughed out loud. Alex had been a regular topic of conversation among the girls when they lived at the CIA compound.

Angel smiled at Mystique and reached over, placing her hand over Mystique's. Janos reached down and put his hand over both girls' hands and squeezed them gently, as if the three were making a pact. Mystique was surprised by the sudden, warm gestures of her teammates.

"Well, for what it means," Angel smiled, "I'm glad you're here. I'm glad you are on my team."

Mystique beamed and squeezed her teammates' hands in happiness. It was amazing how much closer she had grown to the former Hellfire members in the last nine weeks. She considered Angel and Janos true friends; she respected and was no longer afraid of Azazel; and Emma…_well_, she reasoned, _three out of four isn't too bad_.

The stranger from the bar walked over to Angel and struck up a conversation. Within minutes, Angel walked out onto the dance floor with him. Mystique began to feel the buzz of the alcohol, and found her feet tapping to the beat. At that, Janos put down his empty glass and held his hand out to Mystique.

"_¿Quieres __bailar?_"

"I don't understand!" Mystique laughed. Janos repeated his question and mimicked dancing with an invisible partner.

Angel and her new man swung by the two, and Angel came close enough to yell, "You don't need to understand! _Just get your ass up and dance_!" She whirled away to the music.

Janos had a broad grin on his face and his hand was still extended. _Oh, what the hell_? Mystique took his hand.

She had no idea that Janos was such an amazing dancer. They twisted and turned all around the dance floor, laughing and having fun. He showed her a few moves with her hips and some footwork to match his. She caught on quickly, and mentally thanked Azazel's training for her new found gracefulness. Through sword work, she was becoming stronger, and more sure-footed. The band's music pumped through her body like a heartbeat. Janos's taut body pressed against her, guiding her through the motions and movements. For a brief time, the freedom and carefree feelings when she first joined the Brotherhood returned, and for once, Mystique didn't want the experience to end.

* * *

><p>They didn't return to the hotel until daybreak. Janos, Mystique, and Angel walked haphazardly down the main strip arm in arm, Janos leading the girls in an off-key rendition of "Do You Love Me (Now That I Can Dance)." In the Hellfire Club elevator, Mystique had trouble fitting Janos's key into the pad to unlock the Brotherhood's private floors, and Janos and Angel howled like this was the funniest thing to happen all night. They danced the entire ride up to their home.<p>

Erik, Emma, and Azazel were in the lobby when the elevator opened. There was a moment of surprise when the two parties collided. There was a serious mood in the lobby, and Mystique was instantly, painfully aware that she, Angel, and Janos looked like a bunch of guilty teenagers being caught by their parents.

"Hey look, they're back!" Angel stumbled out of the elevator first, wobbling on her platform shoes. She would have fallen if Janos hadn't caught her. Mystique composed herself and tried to walk without stumbling. She smiled in relief at Erik, Emma, and Azazel…

…was frozen in mid-stride, mouth agape, staring at Mystique.

"What's wrong?" Mystique looked puzzled at Azazel. He looked…_like he's seen a ghost_. His entire body was ridged; even his tail hung suspended. Suddenly, she realized she was still wearing her disguise…_of the woman from his locket_. _Oh fuck!_

"Oh…no, it's just me! It's Mystique!" She quickly morphed back to her blue scales, holding up her arms to exaggerated the gesture. "_Ta-da_!"

Azazel remained frozen for a few seconds longer before what only could be described as a wave of pain crossed his face, quickly replaced by one of rage. He narrowed his eyes and his hands balled into fists at his side. His nostrils flared. Mystique took a step back, suddenly feeling very small, and very afraid. Azazel looked absolutely _furious_. Emma, who had been watching this Mystique's display with a frown and crossed arms, suddenly winced and cried out, holding her head in both hands. She spun to face Azazel just as he disappeared in a cloud of black smoke.

"What. _The fuck_. Was that?" Angel swayed uncertainly on her feet, looked at Mystique, then back to Erik and Emma. Even Erik looked alarmed. Emma turned quickly to face Mystique with a look of shock on her face. She slowly closed her mouth and her expression melted into a cold, hard stare.

"_How…how dare you_!"


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Azazel had been gone for more than three weeks.

Mystique was sick with guilt. She moved through the headquarters like a ghost, mechanically performing her chores and daily activities. Her teammates had fallen silent about Azazel's departure. Too often they stopped talking or hushed their voices to whispers whenever she entered the room. While no one said anything outright, Mystique could feel the blame in their eyes and in their lack of acknowledging the fact that _Azazel was clearly missing_. Erik too often frowned in Mystique's presence, while Emma gave the girl cold, cruel stares of reproach whenever the two crossed paths. Only Angel and Janos offered her pitied glances and small gestures of kindness, showing that they too were just as confused was about the night Azazel left them.

Mystique _never_ intended to still be wearing her disguise when she, Angel, and Janos returned to headquarters, and she certainly never meant for Azazel to see her. She was angry with herself for letting the haze of the alcohol cloud her judgment. Each evening when she awoke, she rushed to the kitchen lounge desperately hoping to see Azazel sitting at the table as usual, and to know that everything was back to normal. She knew this was a far-fetched fantasy, but each day his void was widening a crack in the already fragile team, and Mystique's remorse was becoming unbearable. _God, what did I do?_

The mission the night of Azazel's departure had failed. They had returned to the hotel defeated, unable to secure the information they needed. Erik's mood was further worsened when Angel, Janos, and Mystique had arrived in a celebratory mood from the clubs. He had prepared a pep talk for the team, but with Azazel's reaction and Emma's accusation, Mystique also managed to ruin Erik's moment to redeem himself. Shortly after Azazel left, Erik stormed off, leaving Emma to scold the remaining teammates and send them off to bed like spoiled children. There was awkwardness between Mystique and Erik now. She felt he looked at her with suspicion, as if he had too many questions that he was afraid to ask and worse, too many things he was afraid to tell her. Mystique found no comfort in Erik's affections in the past three weeks.

To add to the internal turmoil, two new recruits officially joined the Brotherhood's ranks. Dominikos "Nick" Petrakis was a handsome, olive skinned boy of Cretan decent, hardly older than Angel. His abilities were raw but impressive; during his first hour in the ballroom, he created a wave of destruction that resulted in shattering the chandelier, quickly earning him the nickname Avalanche. With his soft accent and almond shaped eyes, Mystique thought for sure Janos and Angel were going to come to blows over him. The other recruit couldn't have been more opposite. Short and unattractive, Mortimer "Mort" Toynbee seemed like an unlikely candidate for extraordinary powers of any kind. Mort quickly proved, however, to be amazingly agile and he could jump clear across the ballroom, not to mention scale walls like a lizard. When Nick laughed and called him a frog, Mort shyly admitted that he had the nickname "Toad" long before joining the Brotherhood. Neither Nick nor Mort took up full-time residence at the headquarters, but they visited on a regular basis and they were busy training to take part in the Brotherhood's missions.

"…Mysty, honey? _Avalanche_ asked you a question."

Angel looked at Mystique with concern, beating her dragonfly wings to remain suspended a few feet off the ground. Whenever Nick visited headquarters, Angel took every chance she could to display her powers. Mystique didn't think he found it impressive; rather, she thought Nick just liked all the attention Angel gave him. _He probably likes the attention Janos gives him too_. She had also noticed that Janos also started using his powers more whenever Nick was around. _Too bad for Janos_, Mystique thought. She was pretty sure Nick wouldn't take him up on offers for company anytime soon.

"Huh? Oh, I'm sorry. I was just…thinking." Mystique turned to face Nick from where she was seated. He looked bored as he considered her. She wasn't sure if she liked him. He had an air of entitlement about him that she found off-putting. Mystique smiled anyways, to be nice.

"I wanted to know what your power is, besides being _blue_ and _moody_."

Mystique's expression faded and she sharply raised an eyebrow at him.

"Go on Mystique, show him what you got!" Angel encouraged her friend pleadingly. Her eyes seemed to beg Mystique to '_make nice_' with the guy she was crushing on. Mystique sighed and composed herself. In rapid succession, her scales quivered and transformed into a replica of Nick, Angel, Janos, Mort, and finally back into her blue skin. Mort looked at her with a gaping mouth. Despite his air of superiority, Nick couldn't conceal that he was impressed. He winked at Mystique.

"Well, it's good to know you can turn into any girl _I want_ to you to be."

Mystique narrowed her eyes and gave Nick the finger. She bolted up and heatedly left the room, letting the double doors slam shut behind her. As she stomped up the stairs towards her bedroom's wing, she heard someone call out her name.

Mystique spun around, ready to unleash her anger at Nick, but instead, she was surprised to see Mort standing just outside the ballroom doorway. At first he looked uncertain, but then blurted out, "I thought that was pretty cool. And I think you're pretty, you know…how you are now." Mort added shyly, "don't listen to that _jerk_."

Mystique was taken aback by Mort's kindness. She thanked him, and he gave her a goofy smile before retreating back into the ballroom. Mystique continued to her room. Once inside, she sunk to the floor with her back pressed against the locked door. She felt like she was drowning in despair. She picked up her wooden practice sword and ran her fingers over the blade. She couldn't believe how much she had grown to look forward to training. Ever since her last mission, she felt a distinct shift in her and Azazel's relationship. He smiled more around her and even started to seek out her company. She was downright shocked the night after her mission when he walked into the hotel lobby where she had been quietly reading and handed her a beer, then sat next to her on the couch and started asking her questions about the book she was reading. His absence was creating a void in the team, and frankly, she _missed_ him. Mystique sighed and put the sword down. She knew what she had to do.

* * *

><p>Mystique stood outside Emma's bedroom door. She raised her hand to knock but hesitated. She hated that it had come to this, but she didn't feel she had any other choice. Erik once told Mystique that Emma could always "find" Azazel when he was needed. She had never quite understood how Emma could do this, but after she witnessed the two mutants talking telepathically, she knew now that Emma had a bond with Azazel that allowed her to communicate with him over long distances. In her previous life, Mystique and Charles had such a mental bond, but these links are easily severed if they are not maintained. Mystique paused, swallowed her pride, and raised her hand to attempt knocking again. Before she struck the frame, the door suddenly swung open, slicing the dim hallway a silver beam of light. Mystique had never been inside Emma's room, but judging from the harsh light emanating from it, she did not doubt for a second what the predominant color was.<p>

Emma coolly regarded Mystique's presence for a few seconds before proclaiming sourly, "I don't have time for you." Emma started closing her door.

"Emma, _please_." Mystique slipped her foot in the frame to keep the door from slamming shut. The pain was incredible, but she gritted her teeth and bore it.

"Emma, I need to speak with Azazel." Silence. Emma's stare could have frozen an ocean.

"Why should I help _you_?"

Mystique swallowed and concentrated hard. She knew the telepath would be reading her mind, and she knew she had one shot to convince her. She pictured the night in the lobby and concentrated on her remorse from the past three weeks. She thought about how much she wanted to make things right. She pictured the other members of the Brotherhood, and how much they had been affected by Azazel's absence. She thought about Erik, and how much the episode was affecting him as their leader. Finally, she concentrated on Azazel, and the look of pain on his face before his disappeared.

Still cold, Emma wavered slightly. Mystique saw her chance. She put all her energy into concentrating on Azazel, and how much she wanted to apologize to him for what she did unknowingly to hurt him. _I know you miss him too._

"_Please_. You know it's the only way."

Emma looked hard at Mystique for a few seconds longer, then looked away. She looked livid, but slightly defeated. She nodded her head.

"Oh Emma…" Mystique wanted to cry. "Thank y…"

"Let's get one thing straight, _sweetheart_." Emma morphed into her diamond form, and brought her foot down violently on Mystique's foot. Mystique gasped and drew back. Emma shone blindingly, and her words were as scorching as her skin.

"I am not doing this for _you_. And I cannot promise he'll even listen to me." At that, she slammed her door shut, leaving Mystique alone with her thoughts and her throbbing pain.

* * *

><p>Two days later, Mystique had an answer.<p>

_He's agreed to speak with you_.

Mystique nearly choked on her breakfast. Emma stood in the doorway of the kitchen, her arms crossed and brow furrowed, looking coldly at Mystique. The others seated around her were completely unaware of the mental conversation between she and Emma. Mystique looked at Emma and carefully pictured a clock and a map in her mind.

_Tonight, on the roof, before day break_.

"Thank you."

"Hmmm?" Erik looked up from his newspaper with a puzzled expression on his face. The others glanced over in expectation, confused as to why Mystique broke the silence at the table. Emma rolled her eyes and took a seat in the lounge.

_Idiot. Grew-up with a telepath, did you?_

"Nothing." Mystique quietly seethed.

* * *

><p>True to Emma's word, Azazel was waiting on the rooftop at dawn. When Mystique opened the entrance door, she saw him on the far side of the roof, his back to her and his elbows resting on the railing as he casually leaned over and surveyed the dusky desert city sprawled out before them. Mystique had spent the day judiciously composing her apology. Now that the time had come, all of her carefully scripted words abandoned her, like birds set loose from a cage. She walked towards him but stopped about twenty feet away, unsure of how to proceed.<p>

"Hey."

Azazel didn't turn around. She knew he heard her, because his tail twitched sharply at the sound of her voice. Uncertain of what to do next, Mystique hugged herself and timidly stepped closer. After a few moments of silence, Azazel finally turned to face her, keeping one hand firmly clenched on the railing. He looked apprehensive and he eyed Mystique warily. Mystique swallowed a lump forming in her throat. She anxiously wished she could remember what she had planned to say.

"Azazel, I am _really sorry_ that…"

"Can you make that face? Again?" There was an eagerness in his interruption. Mystique was taken aback and creased her brow in bewilderment. After how he reacted the last time he saw her, she wasn't so sure she wanted to recreate the disguise, even at _his_ request.

"Are you…_positive_ that's what you want?" He nodded ardently. Mystique concentrated and shifted into place. She clothed herself this time in a modest white dress. Azazel let out a deep breath and stared at her for a long time before reaching into his pocket and taking out the small silver locket. Opening it, he looked in the locket and at the woman standing before him.

"_Magnificent_." She barely heard his whispered praise.

There was a profound sadness in his eyes. He released the railing and walked over to Mystique, stopping directly in front of her. He looked for a while like he wanted to say something, but instead, he put his hands on either her face, closed his eyes, and touched his forehead to hers. Mystique was startled by his sudden closeness. Not knowing what else to do, she reached up and put her hands over his in a gesture of solace. She closed her eyes. Standing this close to him, she could hear the drumbeat of his heart, smell the mixture of sweat, silk and heat from his body, and feel the rough texture of his hands. She found his presence comforting in a way she couldn't quite understand. They stood silent for a few moments before Azazel finally spoke.

"Never wear this skin again. Understand? _Never_." Mystique quickly released her form. As her scales shifted back to blue, Azazel stepped away from her. Her cheeks burned where he had touched her.

"I promise. I am _so sorry_. I should have thought better, but I…I just thought she was so beautiful and I am _so sorry_ and I shouldn't have ever chosen someone who would have meant something to a team member, I don't know _what_ I was thinking, honestly, and I…I…can you forgive me…?" Azazel held his hand up in a silencing gesture, interrupting Mystique's apology.

"I know. Maybe I extra-reacted, a little. I was just…_surprised_." Azazel creased his brow in thought. "How is it that you came to see that face?"

"Janos took your locket and showed it to me and Angel, after the last meeting in the lobby." Mystique bit her lip apprehensively. She felt terrible ratting Janos out, but she didn't want Azazel to think she would violate his privacy, at least, not more so than she had already done.

"Please don't…_kill_ him, or anything."

Azazel tilted his head in contemplation. He seemed to be considering it for a moment. When he saw Mystique's eyes widened in fear, the corners of his mouth slowly curled into a wicked smile.

"_Kill him_? I could, easily. But, for you _devochka_….maybe I spare him this time." His answer was playfully sarcastic. Mystique relaxed. Azazel had been kidding; Janos had never really been in danger.

"Azazel…who is she?" It was a dangerous thing to ask a fellow mutant about his or her past. Most of the mutants Mystique met were so damaged from being outcasts that asking them questions was like trying to walk through a minefield with a blindfold on. One never knew what reaction such inquisitions could trigger. The question slipped of Mystique's mouth before she could stop it. To her surprise, Azazel sighed and answered.

"Someone I love very much." Mystique looked down, thinking hard. _That doesn't make any sense. If he loves her, then…_

"Why aren't you with her now?" Mystique looked at her teammate and waited. Azazel stared hard at her for a few spellbound seconds.

"Because she is dead and gone, lying in a church yard." As he spoke these words, his ice blue eyes became hard and feral. "I know. I put her there myself."

_I put her there myself…_

"Oh_…God_." Mystique whispered, her eyes widening in shock and her hand covering her mouth. The realization hit her like a thunderclap. _Whoever she was, he had _killed_ her_. She took a step back and looked fearfully at Azazel. He regarded her coolly for a moment, then turned away, gazing back out over the sparkling city. He said nothing.

* * *

><p>Mystique sat alone in the kitchen, sipping a rapidly cooling cup of coffee. It was bitter and dark, and she felt like it mirrored her present state of mind. Her conversation with Azazel two hours ago on the rooftop had brought her little peace. <em>No wonder why Azazel freaked out when he saw me that night; I looked the ghost of someone he killed for fuck's sake<em>. Mystique thought about this for a long time while her coffee cooled. _There has to be more to it. _She got the distinct impression that Azazel had not _wanted_ to kill that woman. Right now, she wasn't brave or stupid enough to ask him for the full story.

Emma had been waiting in the landing leading up to the roof when Mystique left Azazel. Mystique was not surprised, and as Emma walked past her, she knocked into the blue mutant's shoulder roughly, but did not acknowledge her presence. She was sure Emma and Azazel talked for a long time on the roof after she left. Mystique had come downstairs thinking she would go to Erik, but halfway to his room, Mystique realized she just didn't _feel_ like his company. She was not in the mood to question Erik's feelings tonight.

After a few moments in quiet thought, Mystique felt like she was being watched. She turned and saw Azazel standing in the doorway to the kitchen, leaning easily against the frame. Mystique didn't hear him come in, but then again, his talent of suddenly appearing was one of his strongest skills. Mystique smiled to acknowledge that his presence was welcome. He walked over to her and took her coffee cup out of her hands. He looked at it in distain, and then stated matter-of-factly, "you Americans really don't know how to make _good_ coffee."

He walked away from her and poured her coffee down the sink. She watched him study the contents of a cabinet for a few seconds, and then select two smaller cups and walk over to the coffee maker. Mystique didn't quite know how to use the machine. It was a European design and Erik and Azazel were passionate about it and seemed to be able to speak its language. Mystique hadn't even liked coffee until she started training with Azazel. After a few minutes, Azazel walked back to the table and handed Mystique a fresh cup. She sipped it. _Damn him, this is good_.

Azazel faced Mystique across the table, leaning back in his chair. He looked tired, and his eyes looked raw, as if he had been recently crying. Mystique broke the silence after a few minutes.

"I asked Emma to find you. It was really nice of her to do that. She really cares about you."

"Emma is a good friend." Azazel smiled in an absentminded way.

"You two seem very close."

"You believe there is something…_more_?" Azazel raised an eyebrow mischievously.

"No, just making an observation is all." Mystique looked guiltily over her coffee cup. After the way Emma wavered when Mystique thought about Azazel, she did wonder if the two had been more than "just friends_"_ at some point.

Azazel smirked at her suggestion. "_Nyet_, we are good friends is only. Emma…doesn't make many friends, and Sebastian wasn't always so good to her. She and I were first members on old team. When Emma found out I could talk to her without using words," he paused to tap on his temple, illustrating his meaning, "she was very happy and we would talk often. But…" He leaned in close to Mystique, as if conspiring with her, "I will tell you a secret." As she leaned in to meet him, she could smell his scent again. She wondering why it made her feel slightly lightheaded.

"Emma? She is not my type." Azazel whispered this with great gravity, and then sat back and laughed as if he had said something very funny. Mystique looked at him in puzzlement.

"_What_? I can't have a type?" Azazel looked at her cunningly and took a sip of his coffee.

"You might not believe it, but I've been with enough women to know what _I like_. And many find this look," he paused and motioned to both his and Mystique's bodies, "…_exotic_. So _there_." He eyed Mystique across the table as if challenging her to state otherwise. Mystique turned her eyes away, slightly embarrassed. It was true that sometimes she looked at her naked body and wondered how many people would call her exotic instead of freakish. Thinking about sex with Azazel sitting so close to her was making her feel uncomfortable. She changed the subject.

"I've seen you and Emma talk a few times. I used to do that with Charles. Who taught you to do that?"

Azazel looked deeply into Mystique's eyes before answering. He had an intense stare, and she always felt like he was trying to read her mind when he did that. _Thank god he's not a telepath._

"My mother could talk to people with her mind. Like Emma and like your Charles."

"Your mother was a mutant?" Mystique couldn't conceal the excitement in her voice. _Azazel was a second-generation mutant_! "Was your father too? Is that why your mutations are so powerful?"

Azazel laughed. "My mother was a beautiful woman with a special gift. My father was just hopelessly in love."

"Tell me about them." Mystique leaned forward eagerly, her hands wrapped around her coffee cup. She knew his parents were dead, and he hadn't reacted well the first time she brought them up. She had hope for this time, though. He seemed to be in a better mood tonight. Azazel regarded her statement prudently, and then threw his hands up in the air.

"You're not going to stop asking, are you?"

"Nope."

Azazel sipped his coffee and watched her serenely across the table. He waited until they were both finished, then he stood-up and held out his hand to Mystique. Cautiously, she took it and searched his face for an explanation.

Azazel simply said, "I think there is something you should see."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: I chose to have Avalanche and Toad join the team because in the Marvel comics, they are original members of both Magneto's and Mystique's incarnations of the Brotherhood. I wanted some "original" characters to fit into my First Class AU. <em>


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

In a heartbeat, Mystique found herself standing in the meadow, the setting sun casting long shadows on the trees. She was instantly struck by how much she had missed the feel of the grass under her bare feet and the smell of the dewy forest air that filled her lungs. _Three weeks away from this place feels like a lifetime_. She turned to say so to Azazel, but as she did, she was distracted by a shimmering reflection on the pond's surface. _That's odd_, she thought, furrowing her brow. She traced the reflection up to its source and saw what appeared to be a ring of torches at the west end of the pond. As she narrowed her eyes and tried to make sense of the scene, Mystique suddenly realized that several figures were moving towards them in the darkness.

Adrenaline coursed through her veins. Without thinking, she morphed into Raven, her standby, human disguise. Azazel continued to gaze calmly into the growing twilight, seemingly unaware of the impending danger.

"_Azazel_!" Mystique whispered, struggling to keep her voice low, "_we'll be seen_!" She turned to run but was stalemated. Azazel was still firmly holding her hand and rooted in his spot. He regarded her panicked reaction with an amused, raised eyebrow.

"_There's people_!" She hissed, motioning frantically into the darkness with her free hand. The figures would soon be within striking distance. There were far too many of them for Mystique to fight, and she did not want to watch Azazel slaughter anyone for sport. She had not yet developed strong stomach for bloodshed.

"_Da_, I can see that." Azazel answered her in the mock seriousness with which one would answer a child. She pushed him and pulled on his arm, but he refused to release her or move. His lack of a reaction to the situation was scaring her to the point of anger. Exhausting her options, Mystique simply hid herself behind him. She closed her eyes and braced herself for what was to come.

One of the figures called out jovially to them in a language she did not recognize. She was shocked when Azazel returned a greeting in the same tongue. _What is going on here_? Mystique opened her eyes. Azazel was looking down at her over his shoulder.

"All these weeks of learning to fight, and you run at the sight of humans? I am not working you hard enough, it seems." He eyed her human form. "You do not need to hide, but you might want to make clothes."

Mystique released her human disguise but created a simple dress to cover her figure. She timidly peered out from behind Azazel and saw a group of men standing about twenty feet away. One of the strangers laughed while another waved at her, and they all seemed to be…_smiling_? It was all _too_ much. She felt dizzy and faint.

"Why aren't they scared of us?" Mystique asked in a small voice.

"Because they don't have to be. Come, I will introduce you."

* * *

><p>Everywhere Mystique looked, people were looking back at her. She walked shyly, hugging herself and trying to stay as close to Azazel as possible. No one <em>seemed<em> scared of the two, but Mystique was still afraid to show her natural body in public. All around the mutants were brightly painted wagons, decorated with dazzlingly colored cloth and ornaments. People peered out from the caravans, conversations halted for greetings to be shouted out, and one small boy even ran up to Mystique and spoke to her excitedly. As he smiled at her, she stepped closer to Azazel, not sure what to do. Thankfully, Azazel said a few words to the child, after which the boy ran off to join a group of nearby children in play.

"What did you say?" Mystique whispered.

"I told him that you would play later."

"What language was that?"

"Romani."

"Oh."

The language sounded like birds singing. _And it meant he speaks four languages, not three_. Mystique continued to be on guard. She was highly suspicious of humans, even ones who seemed so openly accepting. As she eyed the camp, she neglected to watch where she was walking, and she suddenly collided into Azazel. He firmly grasped her shoulders, steadying her. Looking into her feline eyes, he smiled reassuringly.

"_Devochka_, I need for you to relax. We are among friends. Trust me, _da_?" Mystique nodded. No sooner did she stop hugging herself that a voice rang out through the crowd that made both her and Azazel jump.

"_Devlesa araklam tume_!" Azazel spun around, looking through the throng of people. A petite woman was aggressively making her way towards them. Her long black hair flowed freely around her face, and she wore an elaborate cloth headdress that looked like woven ram's horns. Her jewel toned clothing shimmered and Mystique could hear the soft chime of bells with each assertive step the woman took. She would be a vision of beauty if she weren't so frighteningly fierce. The woman marched straight up to Azazel and stopped in front of him. Placing her hands squarely on her hips, she stared up at him challengingly with impossibly black eyes. Mystique couldn't shake the feeling that the woman confronting Azazel looked somehow _familiar_, as if Mystique had seen her before. _But that can't be possible_.

"Margali…" Azazel addressed the woman cordially, and offered her a formal bow. She stared at him for a few seconds longer before dissolving laughter and pulling him into a tight embrace. They spoke for a few animated minutes in Romani, and Azazel gestured several times at Mystique during their conversation. Eventually, the woman turned to face the blue mutant and smiled broadly.

"So, Mystique, is it? I am called Margali. I welcome you to my _vista_." Mystique was surprised to hear the woman speak English. She held out her hand in greeting, but Margali brushed it aside and pulled Mystique into a crushing hug. Margali stepped back and looked Mystique over. Her eyes settled on the plain dress the mutant wore.

"Let us see about getting you some more…_festive_ clothing." As Margali pulled her away, Mystique looked pleadingly over her shoulder at her teammate. Azazel merely shrugged and offered a half-smile before turning away, leaving Mystique in Margali's hands. Mystique was dragged though a maze of wagons, people, and animals before she and Margali stopped at a canary colored wagon at the edge of the encampment.

"Here we are, you have a seat," Margali nearly pushed Mystique into a chair, "and I will see what I can find." With that, Margali disappeared inside the yellow wagon. Mystique took the opportunity to look over her surroundings. Even in the firelight, the camp was a canvas of vivid tones. The caravans, the clothing, the animals; everything was decorated with bright, festive cloth and paint, competing violently for visual attention. Children darted around the wagons and people offered cordial greetings to the Mystique as they passed. Not one person seemed startled at her appearance. _These people must be used to seeing mutants. I wonder if there _are_ other mutants here? _ Mystique became excited at this thought. She wished Azazel were nearby so she could ask him.

Margali returned with an armful of radiant cloth. Mystique tried to explain that she could copy the clothing with her skin, but Margali ignored her and began handing various articles to Mystique to try. A young boy dashed out from under the wagon and jumped into the pile of clothing.

"Stefan, _nein_." Margali patted the boy on the head lovingly. She spoke a few more German words to him and the boy laughed and ran off to play.

"What is this place?" Mystique turned to Margali, modeling a silver blouse and shining blue skirt. Margali looked her over then shook head. She handed Mystique a different set of clothes. The silk felt cool against Mystique's rough scales.

"This? It is the _vista_, our camp. We are gathering for the summer solstice. Surely Azazel told you?" Mystique shook her head.

"He doesn't really talk much."

"Ah well, he's never been one to talk much. I blame his mother, bless and rest her. He got her eyes, and I think, that restless spirit of hers, but she spoiled him with her gift." Margali continued, unaware that Mystique knew of the mutation. "Ilyena was able to talk to people using only her thoughts, just like you and I use our voices and words."

"_Gift_?" Mystique was astonished to hear mutation referred optimistically. "You call telepathy…and this," Mystique pointed to her own face, "a_ gift_?"

"_Ja_, _gift_." Margali frowned at Mystique's obvious disapproval of the word. "There is no reason to be ashamed of your abilities."

"I'm sorry, but where I come from, most people wouldn't call this a _gift_. They'd call it a _curse_." Margali sighed and placed her hand on Mystique's cheek. There was pity in her eyes as she regarded the blue girl.

"Mystique, most people will never know anything beyond what they see with their own two eyes. You have a _gift_. So do others here in this _vista_, seen and unseen. Just because the world is not ready to accept you, does not mean you should be ashamed of yourself and what you are able to do." Margali smiled warmly and patted the mutant's cheek in a motherly fashion before handing her a vermillion skirt. Mystique was dumfounded that Margali and her people readily embraced mutations. She didn't think any humans would ever see her as…_normal_. A small part of her suddenly wished Hank were here with her to hear Margali's empowering words.

"Do you live nearby?" Mystique motioned the clearing. "I've been here many times but I've never seen anyone else in the meadow."

"We live wherever the road takes us. We are Roma, the traveling people. Most others would call us gypsies. My _vista_ runs a circus that travels from Kiev to Munich. We are only here in this place for a short time before we move on each summer. This land here was given to us by the leaders of Germany, after the Second World War. It is the only land the people own, and only the people can use it." Margali nodded in approval at the red skirt and gave Mystique a golden blouse that matched her eyes. As Mystique slipped into it, Margali removed a silver bracelet from her wrist and slipped it over Mystique's hand. It chimed delicately with each movement. Fascinated, Mystique turned her wrist to listen to the bracelet's subtle music. Margali moved behind her and began tying the strings of her golden blouse.

"Azazel knows I speak English, so he asked me to show you around so you would not be afraid of us, and this place."

"How long have you known Azazel?"

"Almost my whole life. His mother is the third cousin of my mother's second husband." Mystique tried to figure out the family relationship, but quickly gave up. "And of course," Margali added, pulling a tight knot in the last string, "he was married to my sister, but I am sure you know this already."

_Married_? Looking over her shoulder at Margali, Mystique's blood ran cold as she realized why the woman looked so familiar. She had seen Margali's sister. Actually, Mystique had _been_ her sister; at least, she had worn her sister's skin. Mystique's heart sank at the realization of what she had _actually_ done.

* * *

><p>The music grew in cadence as Margali and Mystique approached the inner circle of dancers. Numerous people here moved energetically, bursts of color against the fire and the night sky. Mystique looked through the crowd of people but she could not find Azazel. As the many dancers moved around her, Mystique found their celebratory mood contagious. The ice in her veins dissipated when she began clapping along to the drumbeats, Margali's borrowed bracelet adding to the chorus of music surrounding her. As the dancers twirled by, a man reached out and took both of Mystique's hands. She let herself be pulled into the ring with the others. She laughed and pirouetted, her borrowed clothing whipping around her and creating an aura of color and movement that her shape shifted clothing could never attain. Mystique even preformed a few of Janos's dance steps for good measure, which were met with cheers and smiles from the others. She had no idea how long she danced, but after a time, Mystique made her way back to the outer circle. Exhausted, her clothing sticking to her sweat-slicked skin, she happily collapsed on the first patch of comfortable ground she found and leaned back against a wagon wheel to rest.<p>

"_Privyet._" Mystique turned to see Azazel sitting a few feet away from her chosen spot.

"I didn't even see you there!" He was also wearing different clothing similar to the style Margali lent her. A golden haired child was sleeping soundly in his arms. Her fingers were tightly coiled around the collar of his shirt, and she was drooling on his sleeve. He didn't seem to notice.

"It looks nice." She motioned to his clothing. "The colors. You know…not _black_." Azazel rarely wore color, preferring to maintain a mostly black wardrobe. It was odd to see him wearing anything else, even in this setting. She gave him an impish grin. "The kid's nice too. She yours?" Azazel smiled and shook his head.

"This is Jemaine, Margali's youngest. She decided I was more comfortable than the ground, I think."

"Are you not dancing?"

"_Nyet_, I do not dance." Mystique made a mock sad face, but he only shrugged.

"Two left feet. And a tail." He grinned, smacking his tail against the ground as if to make his point. "You try dancing with a tail, then come tell me about it." As Mystique giggled, Margali emerged from the dancers and greeted them. After a few moments of conversation, she removed the sleeping Jemaine from Azazel and retired for the night. Mystique played with her silver bracelet while Azazel watched the festivities. They both sat in quiet contemplation for a long time before Azazel spoke.

"You are beautiful when you dance." He stated this as a fact and looked over at Mystique to gauge her reaction. When she blushed, he quickly added, "Magneto…would be sad to miss seeing you now."

"Yeah, I bet." Mystique looked down at the sound of Erik's codename. A small part of her felt guilty for being here without his knowledge. _As if he doesn't run off all the time without telling me_. She felt a pinprick of anger at the thought, but decided not to dwell on it.

"So, you're a gypsy then?"

"Half."

"What's the other half?"

Azazel stood up from his spot. He looked restless, and watched the dancers with a faraway look on his face for a long time before answering her question with his own.

"Would you like to go for a walk with me?"

* * *

><p>They ambled around the pond for a while, talking of small matters and pleasant things before deciding to sit under a rugged pine tree on the far side of the meadow. From here they could still see the firelight and hear the music in the distance, but they were far enough away to talk privately. The two mutants sat side by side facing the water, and Azazel pointed out constellations to Mystique in the night sky. As she listened, she wondered what time it was. The darkness around them and the brightness of the stars overhead suggested that it was quite late, perhaps 2 o'clock in the morning. Mystique secretly enjoyed these dark early morning hours, when she felt like she was the only living creature in the world. They were the empty, hollow times when everyone was asleep and the entire world seemed to hold its breath before the dawning of a new day. It was a time for private thoughts and clandestine conversations that had the power to shape one's life well beyond the lingering sunrise.<p>

And it was here, in the stillness of the dark morning when the world was holding its secrets tight, that Azazel told her everything.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Azazel had been born to Ilyena Wagner, a Roma girl of nineteen, in the sacristy of a church in a Russian hamlet so forgotten from time that not more than a hundred people knew its proper name. He never knew his father, at least, his _real_ father. While traveling through the Russian countryside, Ilyena's _vista_ had been attacked by enraged, superstitious farmers who believed the Roma to be witches and devils. They blamed the traveling people for a recent plague that befell the local's livestock, and armed torches, the farmers sought murderous retribution during the night. Taking her brother Ilya's hand, Ilyena fled for safety into the surrounding forest. The siblings lost everything – their family, home, and people – during the chaos and rampage. They wandered for days, terrified and alone, until they stumbled upon a party of hunters dressing a freshly killed stag. Reckless from hunger, Ilyena approached the men to beg for food. She tried using her telepathic powers, but she was too weak to be effective. When they realized what she was – "…a mutant, a _monster_" (Azazel practically spat the word) – she was seized by these men. Ilya was killed, an arrow piercing his heart, when he emerged from his hiding place and tried to save his sister from the hunters' malicious intentions.

Ilyena was raped, stabbed, and thrown into a nearby river, left for dead. By some small miracle, she survived long enough to wash up on the river's muddy banks far downstream at precisely the same moment that Father Kurt Dyatlov, the hamlet's priest, happened to be fetching water to bless. Using her last ounce of strength, Ilyena telepathically sent one word – _mercy_ – to the startled holy man. She then fell into a sleep so deep that she did not wake for many weeks. Father Dyatlov immediately recognized Ilyena to be two very dangerous things – a mutant and a Roma – but he could not bring himself to abandon the foreign girl to such a godless death. Gently, he carried her broken body from the river into his church, where he nursed her back to health in secret. Over the months she lived under his care, two things became certain: Ilyena had arrived to his church pregnant, and the despite his piety and vows to his Christian God, Father Dyatlov had fallen in love with her.

Azazel was born with his crimson features and forked tail. When he first saw the child, Father Dyatlov thought Azazel was a punishment sent from God for the priest's mortal love for Ilyena. Grabbing a sword, he was prepared to end the child's life then and there. Azazel never knew why his life was spared. Perhaps it was the look in Ilyena's eyes as she cradled her infant son, her quiet plea to the priest that "…this child is the only family I have left," or simply Father Dyatlov's love for the wild, gypsy girl that fell into his life and changed it irrevocably. Whatever it was, the priest stowed his blade and allowed both Ilyena and Azazel to secretly remain on the second story of the church, hidden from the villagers and anyone else who might not be so kind to the mutant pair. Although the priest never acted upon his feelings for Ilyena (for he was a devout man), Azazel never knew a time when Father Dyatlov didn't cared for them as a man would care for his own flesh-and-blood family.

Azazel's childhood was not unpleasant. True, because of his appearance he spent most of his time within the church's inner sanctum, but he always had his mother or Father Dyatlov for company. His mother cherished him and indulged him when she could, sneaking her son outside to run and play in the surrounding woods whenever possible. From his mother he inherited a certain degree of recklessness, an ability to enjoy the simple things in life when the entire world seemed unfair and unforgiving. His most treasured childhood memories were sitting on the soft moss of the forest floor, twisting his small fingers in Ilyena's ebony hair while she held him and told him fairy tales and stories of their people without ever once speaking a word.

Father Dyatlov was a strict but fair man. He was a former soldier in the Czar's army, and disenchanted with a life of violence, he turned to a life of piety for redemption. From an early age, he instructed Azazel in languages, art, history, and music - all the finer points of civilized culture. The priest believed that a strong classical education would help Azazel counteract his demonic appearance. He also taught Azazel how to fence – a favorite pastime of his – and how to fight to protect himself, a skill the priest sadly knew Azazel would need to survive outside the church walls. Through Father Dyatlov's influence, Azazel developed a love for books and the piano, both of which kept him fairly content with his indoor life. It was only during weekly Sunday services that Azazel felt keenly cheated by his mutation. He freely admitted to Mystique that, as a young child he would often spy on the parish families during church services and later cry in secret because he looked so different from the other children. As much as he enjoyed his books, drawing, music and his fencing, they were not replacements for a _normal_ life, something his mother and the priest could never give him.

During the winter when Azazel turned ten, a survivor from his mother's _vista_ appeared in the sleepy Russian hamlet. Ilyena was elated to be reunited with the handful of people who survived the attack that destroyed her world so many years prior. Though she was no longer a girl, Ilyena never lost her restless spirit. Azazel knew that his mother's time confined inside the church walls was a great sacrifice she made to keep him safe. At the beginning of spring, Ilyena left to travel with the Roma once again. She left Azazel in the care of Father Dyatlov. It wasn't an easy decision, but she knew that Azazel was too young and his mutation too visible to safely travel. Although Ilyena returned every winter to be with her son, she never _truly_ left him behind. Until he joined her, Azazel never went to sleep at night without his mother reading to him using the mental bond they had created. It was during this time that Azazel's teleportation abilities developed, so he was also able to travel to visit his mother and meet their people. He remained with Father Dyatlov until he was fifteen, when the priest took sick and died from a fever, although Azazel secretly knew that Father Dyatlov died from a slowly breaking heart each time Ilyena left. After burying the priest, Azazel left the only home he had ever known to travel with the Roma.

"…Then when I was around seventeen - I believe the year was 1940 - we came to live with Margali's people. They work a traveling circus. I performed knife-throwing, which I mastered from learning fencing." He paused in his story, and with a quick flourish, two silver daggers slid easily from his sleeves into his hands. He held them up for Mystique to see. She always knew he kept weapons concealed, but she never would have thought these short swords were once used for a stage act in a previous life. He slid the daggers back into his sleeves.

"When I preformed, the people watching thought I wore a costume. It was a good life, while I had it. But eventually, things changed…" a sad look came into his eyes as he trailed off. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before continuing. He faced Mystique.

"You know why your Magneto fights, _da_?"

"Yes, of course." Erik had spoken of it often with Mystique when the Brotherhood first started. "He fights because of the death camps. His people were being rounded up and exterminated, and now the government wants do the same to us mutants."

"Correct. Do you also know that it was not just the Jewish who were taken?" Mystique shook her head.

"_Da_, the Roma were also taken, over a quarter million, simply for being Roma. They were tortured. Used in medicine experiments. _Murdered_." At this word, a hard look came into his eyes. Mystique saw him ball up one of his fists.

"The Roma are considered _animals_ by many governments of the lands they travel through. They have always accepted people who are outcasts, runaways because maybe they have abilities that humans do not have. These people were especially taken for experimenting, treated worse than the others." At this, a thought solidified in Mystique's head. She looked back to the dancers in the distance and realized what had been escaping her all evening. _It all makes sense_.

"Margali's people aren't scared of us because they are carriers of the X-gene."

"_Da_, mutants are not new to the Roma. When I first came to live with the people, I was scared to show myself, but when I did, no one called me demon or monster, even those who had never seen a mutant so…_obvious_ as me. The few humans who saw me, though…" He scowled, "well, they had nothing nice to say."

"So, are these people," Mystique pointed toward the firelight, "your family? Are they your cousins and stuff?"

"_Nyet_, these are Margali's people, not mine. I only had my mother, who lost her family in the attack on her _vista_ before I came. Margali and her children are the closest thing I have to what you call family, but we are not related with blood."

"You are related through marriage." Mystique tread this water as carefully as she could. She did not want to provoke Azazel into silence like she had too many times in their previous conversations.

"You were married to Margali's sister." Azazel nodded and said nothing for a while, choosing instead to gaze off in the distance. Mystique held her breath. After a few tense seconds, he turned and faced her. Reaching into his shirt, he produced the silver locket, opened it and displayed the photograph inside.

"Adriana." His voice became thick and unsteady as he spoke her name. He looked down and took a deep breath. When he looked up at Mystique, his crystal eyes were glistening but he was smiling proudly.

"She was my knife-throwing partner. She was mutant too, had ability to move things by thinking about moving them."

"_Telekinesis_?"

"_Da_, that word." Azazel made no attempt to pronounce the foreign word. "She could control her powers well with her mind, but they were also tied very strongly to how she felt. Sometimes, if she had too much sadness or anger, she had trouble controlling her power. She was not good person to fight with. Luckily when we did fight, I could simply vanish when she threw something at me." At this, he chuckled. Mystique assumed he was recalling a particularly memorable fight.

"I think she and I were made for one another." Mystique smiled at Azazel's bittersweet interpretation of love in the world of mutant powers. He fell silent again, his expression lost in thought as he gazed at the still pond. Mystique did not interrupt; she felt lucky herself that he had spoke so much already. When he started talking again a few moments later, his tone had changed to become much more serious.

"Adriana…she was carrying our child when it happened. She wanted the child so badly, you must understand." He said this to Mystique this as if she had been challenging this idea.

"I was away from the _vista_ when the soldiers came. Adriana was not with me because teleporting made her sick in her condition. Many people ran and escaped, but Adriana…she would have fought to protect her family, and that is how they would have known she was not human. They took her, and my mother." He paused to steady his voice.

"When I returned, everything was gone. Burned. I took the sword Father Dyatlov gave me and all I could think was to find Adriana, but I had no idea where. I looked for long time. Each day was like a death for me. Eventually, my mother was able to fight the people who took her enough to reach me telepathically, and to tell me where they were before she was shot. When I found Adriana she was…in a cage, like a wild animal. Covered with blood. She did not know me anymore. What they had done to her… when I found her, she…" His voice broke. Even in the darkness, Mystique could see wet trails of tears reflecting on face.

"She…she had killed our child herself. She was screaming that she would not let _them_ take it." He looked down.

"If I had been there, I would have…I could have…" Azazel shook his head.

"I tried to calm her but she kept screaming. Soldiers found us. When they appeared, I felt rage I could not control. Rage for all the things they had done to my people, to my Adriana and to my child. I took my sword and I killed them. I had never killed anyone before that day, but I took many lives with no mercy. As I did this, a hand grabbed my shoulder. I thought it was a soldier. I turned, I thrust my sword…then I saw Adriana. She was looking at me, scared, her hand on my shoulder. She said my name. Before I had time to realize what I did, she was dead at the end of my sword."

Azazel covered his face with his hands. He made no sound except for an occasional gulp of breath. Hot tears erupted from Mystique's eyes and dripped down to her chin. She put her hand on his shoulder. She did not know what she could do or say that could possibly comfort her fellow mutant. He sat silent for a long time, tormented by his memories.

"I buried Adriana myself in the yard of the church, next to my mother and Father Dyatlov. That was 1945. I visit the graves often to remind myself why I must continue to fight." Azazel turned to Mystique, his eyes hard and raw. When he next spoke, it was in a tone of deadly seriousness.

"The first time we spoke, you called me a killer. _Da_, I am a killer, I will never deny this. But know that I kill those who _deserve_ to die for what they do to _us_."

* * *

><p>Although it was still dark, the sky was beginning to streak with paler shades of blue, heralding the inevitable breaking of dawn. The distant dancers had retired and their fires had died down to softly glowing embers that burned like fireflies in the night. Mystique was lying back and watching the starts quietly fade, trying to find the constellations Azazel pointed out before they winked out of the sky. Azazel had been quiet for the better part of the hour, gazing at the pond and occasionally skipping a stone on its mirror surface. After everything he had told her, she was not surprised that he wanted to be alone with his thoughts.<p>

Eventually, he turned away from the pond. Leaning back, he supported his weight on his palms. He glanced over at Mystique with an unsure, self-conscious smile. After all he had told her, Mystique thought he looked exposed, maybe even a bit vulnerable.

"So, now you know about me. You must return the favor." He looked at her expectantly. Mystique bit her lip and turned her eyes away.

"I don't remember." Azazel looked at her incredulously, raising an eyebrow. She sat up and faced him, putting her hands in the air in a surrender gesture.

"I'm not lying, really. I don't remember much before I found Charles. I lived on the streets until I broke into the his parents' mansion, and then he invited me to live with them." She thought back to the day she snuck into the lavish house to steal food. Rich families were always the easiest to steal from, despite how impossible the idea seemed. For a long time she believed these people would have the highest security for their lavish lifestyles, but in reality, it was easy to pose as a maid or hired help and simply walk in the front door. Most people who lived in luxury barely took the time away from their social calendars to even attempt to learn their maids' faces, let alone realize that a bit of food or money was no longer in their possession. She took a deep breath and told Azazel everything she knew about her life leading up to the formation of the Brotherhood.

Mystique tired hard many times in her past to simply _remember_, but the details of her life were fleeting. Her human name was Raven Darkhölme; she somehow _knew_ this to be true. But Mystique couldn't recall other important facts. She wasn't even entirely sure of her own _age_. When asked, she replied 22, but this was based on an estimate from the age Charles assigned her when they first meet that night so long ago. She did not remember her parents or a family at all. Did she have brothers and sisters? Aunts and uncles? A past beyond a few foggy, half-guessed memories? The earliest memory she could reach was one she tried desperately to forget: strong hands, _familiar_ hands, holding her small body under water while she kicked, clawed, and fought for breath. The crushing cold of the water, the pounding of suffocating, and the knowledge that she had _trusted _and_ loved_ the hands that held her under. How she escaped death she simply couldn't remember; how she could forget the parent who tried to kill her was unbelievable. All Mystique truly remembered from her childhood was _hiding_.

For as long as she could remember, Mystique had always had always had the ability to transform her skin. She knew that at some point she must have looked normal; her mutation must have stayed at bay until she was old enough to walk and feed herself. She learned to speak, read, and write from somewhere, which suggested she remained with a family until she was at least eight or ten. After her escape from a watery death, Mystique could only recall pieces about life on the streets. Stealing food, warm clothing, and money; shifting her skin to remain anonymous; sleeping in bus malls, seedy motels, and alleyways with nothing but newspapers for warmth; being terrified all the time that she would slip up and be discovered as a _freak_. Most of all, she remembered simply watching _normal_, human children with their parents and crying herself to sleep because that would never be her life. As she grew, she learned to control her mutation until she could hide in plain sight all the time, and it killed her. Every day she lived in fear of being discovered by the same people whose lives she envied so much.

When she walked into the Xaviers' kitchen, it truly was a dream come true. Charles was the only other mutant she had ever encountered. She had finally found someone who understood her, and he became her family, her world, and her home that she yearned for as long as she _could_ remember. For most of her life, it was enough; but like Azazel said earlier, things changed. When she met Hank, something in her head shifted. Mystique started questioning how much mutants with invisible powers – those who could _easily_ pass as human - could ever truly understand what mutants like she and Azazel had to face each time they looked into a mirror. Did they have the same childhood nightmares of being discovered like she and Azazel? Did they have to face the stares and judgment from humans who didn't even have a second to try and understand they were just trying to live a normal life? That they hadn't asked for any of their _gifts_, as Margali called them? True, both she and Azazel found other mutants to live with, but even then…Mystique never could leave the protection of Charles's side, and Azazel could never leave the safety of Father Dyatlov's church or the Roma people. Mystique found it ironic that Azazel's mutation allowed him to be anywhere in the world he desired, yet he had to keep himself hidden away from it. _Almost as ironic as hiding from humans by becoming one of them. _

"Why did you show me this?" Mystique motioned across the pond to the now silent caravans and burned out fires. She knew that these people were very special to Azazel, and she was sure he wouldn't have brought just anyone here to experience this. She was confused as to why he would share this with her, especially after what she had done by wearing Adriana's skin a few weeks before. He quietly considered her question for a few seconds be for answering simply, and matter-of-factly:

"Because you would understand." Azazel looked at Mystique for a minute before elaborating.

"The others…they do not understand what it is like for you and I. To hide all the time because how we look is not accepted. To do what you and I did – to stand up and walk away from another life, one where we had people who did accept us, even though we were different - and to know we can never go back, so instead we go forward to fight for those of us who cannot fight for themselves."

And just like that, Mystique _did_ understand. It dawned on her just how similar she and Azazel truly were. She had never met another mutant so physically different like she was, or heard another mutant express the same childhood fears, dreams, and desires. She had always assumed Azazel was so stoic and so brave, but deep down inside, he had been _just like her_ at some point in his life. Azazel was looking at Mystique intently, as if reading her mind.

"When I was small child, I used to pray every night to meet someone who looked like me. If I were still a religious man, I would have thought you were sent to me by God." He smiled and then turned away to gaze out into the fading darkness.

Tears formed again in Mystique's eyes. She didn't trust her voice to reply to his words. In the dark, sitting next to him, Mystique reached out and gently laid her hand over his. Azazel did not face her, but after a slight hesitation, he curled his fingers around hers. As they sat in silence and watched the sun break over the horizon, Mystique wondered: if she were a religious woman, would she have believed that God was speaking to her through the guise of a devil.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

It had been roughly two weeks since the Azazel and Mystique watched the sunrise in the meadow. Mystique lay in bed looking up at the ceiling, listening to Erik's rhythmic breathing as he slumbered next to her. She absentmindedly twisted Margali's bracelet around her wrist as she sorted through her thoughts. The gypsy refused to take the bracelet back from Mystique. Instead, Margali tucked the silver charm into Mystique's hand and said, "keep this, and keep it safe. You can always find me if you need with this bracelet." Mystique later asked Azazel what Margali had meant by this, but he merely shook his head and told Mystique that she made quite an impression on the woman. The two mutants never talked about that night in the meadow, but Mystique was starting to realize that some things are better experienced than discussed.

The other Brotherhood members accepted Azazel's return almost without comment. It wasn't unusual for him to disappear for days at a time, and Erik maintained an unspoken rule that each mutant kept their own council when desired. Tensions dissipated, and even Emma stopped being so cold towards Mystique (although she didn't exactly become _friendly_ either). Only Angel called obvious attention to Azazel's return. As she entered the kitchen the following evening, she squealed at sight of him and launched herself at Azazel, hugging him so aggressively that she almost knocked him out of his chair while she demanded, "do you _realize_ how long of a walk it is to the grocery store? And in _this_ heat? _Never. Leave. Again_." As he wiped the spilled coffee off his suit, he raised an eyebrow at Angel and responded, "_Da_, I missed you too."

Ever since spending time with Margali's people, Mystique could not stop thinking about her own life before the Brotherhood. When she wasn't occupied with training or chores, her thoughts drifted to Charles. Despite his blessing, Mystique always felt a hot burn of guilt when she thought about Charles lying on the sand, bleeding and watching his two best friends vanish, leaving him to an unknown fate. _If I could just see him, just for a little while_…Mystique frowned. She doubted that Erik would approve of a visit, even if he felt the same way.

She rolled onto her side and watched Erik sleep. She gently brushed his hair back and let her fingers softly trail down his face to rest on his chest. She wondered if Erik ever pondered his previous life. Before his chance encounter with Charles, the loner probably never thought he would be part of a mutant fighting team, let alone become the _leader_ of one. Mystique took solace in the fact that she wasn't the only one who had to adjust to a radically different life.

"Something on your mind?" Mystique startled at Erik's voice.

"Christ Erik, _don't_ do that!" Mystique playfully slapped him on the shoulder. Erik smiled and opened his eyes. He reached out and touched her face. She put her hand over his and breathed deeply.

"Erik, I've been thinking…" She paused, not entirely sure how to phrase her request.

"Yes?"

"…I've been thinking about Charles." The smile slowly faded from Erik's face. Mystique quickly continued.

"I was thinking that, since so much time has passed since we last saw him, maybe we could...?" Erik held up his free hand in a silencing gesture.

"I know where this is going and I do not think visiting him – or any of _them_ – is a _good_ idea."

"But Erik…don't you _miss_ him?" Mystique was crestfallen. Erik frowned and pulled his hand away from her face. He put both his hands over his face and exhaled deeply as if exhausted. When he took them away, his expression was serious, but there was a melancholy light in his eyes.

"Of course I miss him; you _know_ that." Mystique's hopes started to rise. "However," Erik gave her a sharp look, "we _all_ made a choice. Charles chose humanity, and we chose our own kind. Until Charles sees the error of his decision, there can be no reuniting with him and his team."

"But he's my _brother_!" Mystique tried not to raise her voice, but she was beginning to feel desperate. It was one thing if Erik didn't want to see Charles, but how could he ban her from the only family she had?

"Maybe enough time has passed that he will consider working with us now and…"

"No, he absolutely will _not_." Erik paused, rallying his argument. "Do you really think Charles and his students – or whatever he calls them now - will want to infiltrate government offices? Or take down leaders in charge of programs to "control the mutant problem"? Charles's idea of fighting is with words and lectures, trying to make simpleton humans understand something that they could never possibly comprehend." Eric looked thoughtful for a moment then added, "if there is one thing I know about Charles, it's that he will always do what society considers the _right_ thing, even if that means mutants continue to live as slaves and outcasts." Mystique scowled and started worrying her bracelet again. This conversation was not turning out how she wanted.

"When did you start wearing jewelry?" Erik's question caught her off-guard. His brow furrowed as he motioned to the bracelet. "Where did that come from?"

"This?" Mystique tried to brush his question off. "Oh…it's nothing. Just...a gift." Mystique didn't want to violate Azazel's privacy by telling anyone about Margali or the Roma.

"From?"

"Angel. Angel gave it too me." Mystique made a mental note to talk to Angel the next day to get the story straight. Erik frowned as he examined the bracelet, and looked at it suspiciously.

"Don't you find it rather _interesting_ that Angel had a bracelet with _Cyrillic_ writing on it?"

"Yeah, well, isn't that something?" Mystique's stomach did a flip-flop as another wave of guilt washed over her. Erik dropped her wrist and looked into her eyes for a moment longer.

"Is this discussion over?" Mystique bit her lip. When she left her brother on the beach, she never thought that it really mean _forever_. She'd always assumed that she would eventually be able to at least visit him. _It's not right._

"Yeah, I guess."

"Goodnight then." Erik rolled over, turning his back to her. Mystique lay awake for a long time. She knew that Erik was right. They _had_ all made a choice. Now Mystique was going to make a choice of her own.

* * *

><p>Mystique spent her morning training with Nick, Angel, and Mort in the ballroom. Azazel and Janos sat on the sidelines acting as unofficial judges since the two had the most real-life combat experience. Erik was away on business and practice fighting was deemed beneath Emma. Mort and Nick's reaction to meeting Azazel two weeks prior had been fantastic. Both of the new members jumped out of their seats when Azazel appeared in the lobby for a Brotherhood meeting. Mystique secretly believed that Azazel <em>liked<em> causing scenes from his dramatic appearances. Janos and Azazel watched the mutants' sparing, yelling suggestions and offering critiques. Between the two mutants, they had nearly finished Janos's six-pack of beer. Several times after fights and first hits, they would react verbally, clap or cheer, and on more than a few occasions, Mystique saw the two covertly exchanging money.

"_Fuckers_, quit betting on us!" Angel fluttered over to the two men with her hands on her hips, narrowing her eyes. "Why aren't you guys practicing too?"

"Because it would not be fair to you." Azazel gave Angel a wicked smile and Janos laughed. She rolled her eyes.

"Hey, _old man_," Nick faced Azazel and flexed, "why don't you put your money where your mouth is and come fight _me_?" The silence in the room was deafening; for once, even Angel had nothing to say. A dark look flashed across Azazel's face for the briefest of seconds. He looked Nick over and then slowly smiled and nodded, handing his beer to Janos. While the red mutant seemed outwardly friendly, there was a cool, calculated look in his icy eyes that Mystique knew all too well. She was worried for Nick.

The other mutants lined up on either side of the ballroom to spectate. Nick took a spot in the center while Azazel stood at the front with his arms crossed. The only movement he made was the excited swishing of his tail. With a yell, Nick charged. Azazel did not move. When a collision seemed inevitable, Nick pulled his fist back and stuck…air. Smoke whirled around Nick and he came to a halt, looking confused. Azazel tapped his shoulder from behind.

Before he could react, Azazel grabbed Nick and teleported around the ballroom in rapid bursts. When they came to a stop, Nick started dry heaving. Most people cannot handle more than four rapid transports before getting sick, and many blackout after seven. Azazel used this advantage when the Brotherhood needed to interrogate humans. Azazel stood once again in the same spot he had started, his arms crossed, looking down on Nick. Azazel cocked his head and smiled broadly.

"_Enough_?"

Nick bared his teeth and jumped up. Azazel vanished and reappeared on Nick's left side. The young mutant quickly dropped to the floor, sending a shockwave towards Azazel. The red mutant was expecting Nick to throw a punch, and instead, Azazel was knocked backwards. He disappeared before hitting the ground. Nick smiled but then suddenly cried out as a thin red line appeared on his right cheek. Azazel stood next to Nick, his tail moving like a whip before he vanished again. Both Mort and Angel gasped at the sight of blood. Nick touched his superficial wound and swore.

When Azazel next appeared, Nick threw himself at the mutant and latched onto Azazel's jacket. After a brief struggle, both mutants disappeared in an angry cloud of smoke. The remaining mutants glanced worriedly at one another. Nick and Azazel were gone for more than two full minutes before the pair reappeared. Nick was holding his head and screaming. Azazel, clearly disgusted, deposited Nick roughly on the ballroom floor. Angel ran to Nick and knelt beside him, giving Azazel a look that shot daggers. Nick was shaking uncontrollably and looking at Azazel as if he truly was the devil. Janos looked upset and Mort had plastered his body against a wall to avoid being any closer to Azazel than necessary. Mystique frowned.

"What did you _do_ to him?"

"I took him 305 meters in the air." Mystique's eyes widened with shock. While Mystique didn't exactly _like_ Nick, she was frightened by the extremes of Azazel's methods.

"_What_?" Azazel looked irritated. "I caught him before he hit the ground." When Mystique shook her head, Azazel threw his hands in the air and muttering under his breath in Russian, he turned and walked out of the ballroom.

"Azazel, wait!" Before he could teleport, Mystique caught his arm in the lobby, out of earshot of the others.

"I have a favor to ask you."

* * *

><p>It took Mystique two days to convince Azazel to take her to the Xavier mansion, and just as long to convince him to leave his sword at the headquarters. When she took his arm to teleport, her fingers brushed against the blade of a dagger tucked away in his sleeve. She cast her yellow eyes at him in surprise and he gave her a hard look, silently daring her to call him out, but Mystique kept her mouth shut. She had already asked so much of him.<p>

"Are you sure this is…_good_ idea?" Azazel seemed edgy. She had felt the tenseness in his arm when she took it.

"Yes, I've had a long time to think about it." Mystique tried to sound confident. Azazel looked at her skeptically.

"Just, uh…drop me off at the front gate. I just want to make sure everything is alright before they see you." Mystique swallowed. In truth, she had no idea if everything would be "alright" as she promised. All she knew was that she _had_ to see Charles. Azazel had been against the entire idea from the start. He only eventually agreed to take her because she had effectively argued that she wanted to see her brother as much as he had wanted to see Margali two weeks prior. He had been very vocal about how he'd be killed if he managed to lose the leader's girlfriend.

In an instant, the headquarters faded away and the two were standing fairly close to the front gate. Mystique was impressed; Azazel had never visited the mansion, but he had a talent for estimating distances from technical maps. The mansion looked exactly as Mystique remembered it as it receded from view when she left that morning so long ago in the Blackbird. The familiarity of everything frozen in time suddenly made Mystique very nervous. She let go of Azazel and transformed into Raven. Azazel frowned but made no comment. Leaving him near the gate, Mystique approached the front door. As she waited for an answer, her stomach coiled in ropes. She raised her hand to knock a second time, but before she could, the door groaned open. A young girl she didn't recognize peered out of the massive doorway and looked at Mystique in astonishment. The girl was petite with large emerald eyes and long, wavy hair the color of fire. A dusting of freckles splashed across the her ivory face and if Mystique had to guess, the girl was young – perhaps thirteen years old. _I didn't think Charles would take on students that young_. Before Mystique could open her mouth, the girl spoke.

"Actually, I'm fifteen. I know I look young, but it's true. Professor X is considering taking in students younger than me in the future, especially if they have visible or hard to control mutations." Mystique's eyes widened as the girl continued.

"I know you; you're Raven, the Professor's sister. You are a mutant too."

"You're a telepath?"

The girl smiled coyly, "not just any telepath, I can also..."

"Jean, who is at the door?"

When Charles appeared next to Jean, Mystique began trembling. While she instantly recognized his voice, she didn't instantly recognize was the man confined to the wheelchair. She took a step back and her disguise failed from her shock of seeing Charles crippled. Jean gasped as the pretty blonde melted away and became the indigo woman. The color drained from Charles's face as if he had seen a ghost.

"R-_Raven_?" Charles whispered her name as if speaking louder would scare her away. Tears pooled in his periwinkle eyes. Without hesitating, he opened his arms to embrace her.

"Oh _Charles_…_oh God_…" Mystique broke into racking sobs and fell to her knees. As she pulled her brother tight, she drank in the smell of him: leather, fresh soap, and the woody aftershave. She was hit with a thousand memories at once. As the foreign chair touched her skin, Mystique thought to herself, _we did this_. After a long embrace, Charles rolled away and joyfully bade Mystique to come inside. She took a few steps before remembering Azazel.

"Charles, wait." Mystique looked over her shoulder, then back at Charles.

"I didn't come alone." At that statement, a ray of hope appeared on Charles's face. As he peered excitedly past her and out the door, Mystique realized her mistake and sadly shook her head. _He thought I came with Erik_.

"I'm sorry." His face fell. How often he wished that Erik would come back Mystique could not even begin to guess.

"The teleporter Azazel…he was kind enough to bring me here, knowing that I would be seeing you, and…well, I'd _really_ appreciate if he could wait inside while we visited." Charles looked hesitant.

"He's a friend Charles. He won't hurt anyone, I promise."

"Well," Charles sounded unconvinced. He looked out the doorway again but this time his placed fingers to his temple. Mystique knew he'd be reading Azazel's mind to be safe. After a minute, Charles dropped his fingers and sighed.

"I guess he can wait in the parlor."

* * *

><p>Mystique sat in Charles's study stirring her tea, occasionally peeking out into the parlor from the half opened door. Azazel was sitting just out of earshot and looked extremely uncomfortable. As a precaution, Charles asked Hank to sit in the parlor and keep Azazel "company." Hank sat across from the red mutant, his claws digging into the arms of his chair as the two stared at one another in heated silence. Alex decided on his own to join Hank. The blonde stood in the doorway, his arms crossed and his face set in a scowl. Mystique sipped her tea and worried. The intensity of the look between Azazel and Hank could have started a fire. As the two sat, Hanks claws bit into the chair leather and Azazel's deadly serious expression never once broke Hank's stare. A short while ago Jean had placed two cups of tea in front of the mutants. The drinks sat untouched, and Mystique was sure that by now, they were ice cold.<p>

She and Charles discussed simple pleasantries, but they were both walking on eggshells. Charles was careful not to reveal too much information about his school and Mystique avoided speaking of the Brotherhood. Charles was aware that her team was active and that Emma Frost was free, but he graciously avoided asking direct questions. Instead, he talked about his vision for a future of mutant and human equality and the steps he was taking to ensure it. As they talked, Mystique kept sneaking glances into the parlor. Azazel was still in a stare-down with Hank. Both Hank and Alex had been standoffish to Mystique. Between the elephants in the room when she and Charles talked and the chilly reception of her former teammates, the awkwardness of this visit was grating her. Mystique knew she made the choice to leave, but she never expected to feel like a stranger when she returned to the very house in which she grew-up.

Suddenly, Sean came into the parlor at a rush. A goofy teenager, he had yet to grow into his features. He always seemed be falling into places instead of entering them. As he approached Azazel and Hank, he came to a skidding halt with his arms out as if their staring had created physical barrier between them. Sean's eyes went wide at sight of Azazel. The ginger-haired mutant looked Azazel, then at Hank, back at Azazel, then back at Hank again. When he looked at Alex, the blonde merely shrugged.

"Um…does anyone want to play Frisbee? I have a Frisbee." Sean held up the toy as if they would not believe him without proof. Slowly, Hank and Azazel broke their stare and turned to look at Sean. Now they stared at him silently with brooding expressions.

"Um…so? Frisbee?" Sean waited for a few seconds before realizing his invitation was not going to be accepted.

"Oh…Ok…I'll see if Jean wants to play." Sean hurried out of the room the same way he had entered. Azazel returned his cold stare to Hank, this time raising an eyebrow. Alex re-crossed his arms and Hank's claws popped the leather of the chair. Mystique sighed and excused herself from Charles to alleviate the tension before fireworks sparked in the parlor.

As she entered the room, Azazel quickly stood, acknowledging her presence. Mystique offered Hank a shy smile, and part of her swore she could hear the furry mutant's heart beat faster. It seemed this fact did not escape Azazel's attention either, because as Mystique leaned in to whisper to her teammate, Azazel gently placed his hand on the small of Mystique's back and looked directly at Hank as he did this. Hank dug his claws into the chair deeper, and Alex frowned. Mystique wanted to roll her eyes at all of them. _If Angel were here_, thought Mystique, _she would dismiss the situation with "_boys_" for this competitive, idiot behavior. _

"Are you sure?" Azazel looked wary when Mystique voiced her request.

"Yes, just for a few hours. It will mean the world to me. Charles offered to maintain a mental link with you, to tell you when I am ready to leave…if that's alright with you, of course. He promised not to read your thoughts." Azazel regarded Charles coolly but after a slight hesitation, he nodded approval. After he disappeared, Mystique waved away the smoke and openly smiled at Hank. Just as she was about to say hello, Hank got up and left the room. Alex gave her a hard look and followed Hank's example. As Mystique stood in the parlor with her mouth open, Charles wheeled himself beside her.

_Raven, you must understand that you left them too. They feel like you abandoned them on the beach as well._

Charles's voice echoed in Mystique's mind. She frowned at his observation.

_I don't see why it has to be like this Charles. I came back to make things _better_. I just wanted to see everyone, know that everyone is alright, and say that I am alright too. _

_I know Raven, _Charles's thoughts were reassuring_, but please understand that not everyone feels the same as you. Hank was heartbroken when you went with Erik, and the boys blame Erik for what happened to me. _Charles closed his eyes and concentrated; in a series of rapid flashes, Mystique saw the hospital, the months of recovery, and the life confined to the wheelchair.

_Do you blame Erik for what happened?_ Charles shook his head.

_I blame the situation, not the man. It was an accident Raven, just an unfortunate accident. _Charles paused. _How is he Raven?_

_He…he's good, but he hasn't been the same since we lived here. Erik misses you Charles, like I've never known him to miss anyone before. _

_I miss him too. _There were tears in Charles's eyes again.

* * *

><p>Charles and Mystique sat in parlor for the next two hours. Not having any luck finding a Frisbee partner, Sean joined them for a time. The redhead didn't seem too angry with Mystique for leaving, and after he departed, Jean sat in the parlor for a while. Jean admitted that she was curious about the Professor's mysterious sister who seemed to have the household in a complete uproar. Mystique felt bad for Jean, being the only girl in a house full of boys.<p>

"Have you found other mutants besides Jean?" Mystique felt this question was acceptable, as long as she didn't ask her brother to be too specific.

"Yes, well…it turns out that Alex has a younger brother who can create the same cosmic radiation, except it is controlled by eyes. I've also been in contact with a young man who has wings - actual wings, like an bird - and another boy who can freeze liquid just by touching it. All very interesting, unique talents."

"And all boys. Girl mutants must be _really_ special, huh?" Mystique winked at Jean, who smiled in return.

"Actually, I would like to study the statistical disbursement of the X-gene in the mutant population. Once we get Cerebro running again…"

"Darling, I'm home!" The lilting voice of a woman rang out in the foyer. Mystique heard metal keys dropped into a bowl, followed by heeled shoes clicking on the wooden floor leading towards the parlor. Mystique gasped as Moria MacTaggert appeared in the doorway. The smile disappeared from Moria's face and she froze when she recognized Mystique. Mystique bolted up from her chair so forcefully that she knocked over both the chair and her teacup. Jean scrambled out of her seat too, wide-eyed and clearly startled by Mystique's reaction. Charles looked at Jean with a worried expression.

"What is _she_ doing _here_?" Mystique eyed Moria fearfully. She never really liked the agent, and after _Moria's_ bosses tried to kill the mutants on the beach...

"Raven, please _calm_ yourself; fear is not necessary." Charles kept his eye firmly on Jean, who looked terrified. "Moria lives here now. She is…well, she is my wife Raven. We're married." Charles hesitated, then smiled reassuringly.

"She's your _what_?"

"My _wife_. Please, sit back down. I was going to tell you earlier but I wanted to find the right way to explain. I know that you would have your…_concerns_."

"Charles, you know _better_! I can't believe that after everything…you know we _cannot_ trust the CIA!" Mystique pointed a finger at Moria, who cringed as if her finger was a blade.

"Her bosses tried to _murder_ us – _all of us_ – on the beach! You _know_ this!" Mystique balled her hand into a fist.

"Raven, _calm down_." Jean started to tremble. Charles wheeled over to her and put his hand on the Jean's shoulder. Moria too was looking at Jean, and she spoke in an attempt to diffuse the situation.

"I'm no longer with the CIA, Raven. I left them after Cuba. I don't trust them either." Moria smiled weakly but Mystique felt like she was going to be sick. It was too much. The woman had almost gotten her brother and Erik killed on several occasions…_Erik_…

"She _shot_ at Erik! She tried to _kill_ your best friend! She's part of the reason why you're _paralyzed_!"

"Raven, _please_…"

"Professor…?" Jean started crying. Suddenly, the entire room started vibrating. Moria looked around fearfully. Charles was concentrating on Jean, talking to her telepathically. Mystique watched in wonderment as books slowly began to drift off shelves and float through the air. Suddenly, a large book came forcefully at Mystique. She dodged, only to be hit by another book and thrown backwards into the bookshelf.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I can't control it!" As Jean wailed in escalating fear and books began flying violently around the room, Mystique screamed.

It all happened _so fast_.

Red and black smoke swirled in front of Mystique. Azazel stood, tensed for a fight with two short swords drawn, using his body as a shield between Mystique and the others. Before Mystique could explain the situation to him, Alex burst into the room.

"Professor, what's going…?" Alex's eyes quickly landed on Azazel's swords. Alex let out a yell and a blast from his chest. Azazel pushed Mystique out of the way and teleported to the other side of the room to draw Alex's fire. Mystique dove behind a couch, her arm singed from Alex's blast, which set fire to the bookshelf behind her. Flaming books were now flying off the shelves at an alarming rate as Jean became hysterical.

"Professor, make it stop, _make it stop_!" The young girl howled.

Drawn by the commotion, Hank and Sean appeared in the doorway. Hank leapt at Azazel, who vanished an instant before the blue mutant touched him. He reappeared up towards the ceiling, scanning the room for Mystique. Alex had Mystique cornered against a wall. She pleaded with him that it was merely a misunderstanding, but he looked positively enraged. Sean screamed – more out of fear than fight – and all the mutants cringed except Azazel, who vanished again at the sight of Sean's open mouth. When Sean had lost his breath, Azazel reappeared behind Alex, his tail quickly wrapping around Alex's neck and his blade raised high as the boy charged up…

_I believe that is _quite enough_, all of you. _

Everyone in the parlor stood frozen. Books and debris now slowly floated around the mutants, and only Charles moved, wheeling into the center of the room. Jean was unconscious in Moria's arms; Mystique recognized that it was Charles's work and not an injury. Charles had a hard look on his face, and he brushed aside a burned book as he surveyed the damage to the room and the mutants in it. He did not open his mouth, but his voice echoed loudly inside each mutant's head.

_You should all be ashamed of yourselves._

He looked at Mystique when he next spoke, this time with his voice.

"You gave me your word that _he_," Charles pointed to the frozen Azazel, "would not be a problem." Mystique swallowed. She felt her face and neck relax. Charles had released her so she could speak.

"Charles, it was an _accident_. He thought I was being hurt…" Mystique knew that Azazel would have been paying keen attention to Charles's mental link. Her scream must triggered his return.

"Accident or not, this is _unacceptable_. I need to protect my students." Charles sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"I think it's time you both left, Raven."

Tears formed in Mystique's eyes. _I don't want to leave, not like this_. _Charles_…she tried to speak to Charles in his mind, but he had severed the connection. One by one Charles released the mutants. As Alex regained movement, he tore Azazel's tail from around his neck. The blonde faced the red mutant and jabbed the tail's pointed end in Azazel's face. Alex glared at him.

"I should stab _you_ with this, you _son-of-a_…"

"Alex, step away." When Charles was satisfied that Alex was far enough away from Azazel, he released the teleporter last. Azazel quickly seized Mystique's uninjured arm and roughly pulled her to his side.

"Please, _Cha_…"

In a flash of smoke, they were gone.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

"…_rles_?"

Mystique and Azazel appeared in the hotel's lobby, disheveled from the fight. As soon as her feet touched the floor, Mystique's knees buckled. She was utterly and completely numb. Azazel reacted quickly, grabbing her shoulders and hoisting her upright before she collapsed. He carefully avoided putting pressure on her burned arm. Mystique looked shell-shocked as a cacophony of chaotic thoughts swirled in her mind. She wanted to tell Azazel that her arm wasn't hurt badly, that Charles hadn't _meant _what he said, that she knew it was all a simple misunderstanding…but she could find no voice to speak. As she blankly stared off in the distance, Mystique felt as if her chest had been cracked open and scrapped clean; a complete cardiac abortion. Azazel removed his hand from her arm and lightly brushed messy strands of hair away from Mystique's face, tucking them behind her ear. His fingers lingered by her jaw, and he gently turned her face until her eyes met his. He looked deeply troubled by the blankness of her expression.

"_Devochka_." He didn't say the word as a question, but as a statement of reassurance. At the sound of his voice, Mystique realized that she was _safe_, and that she was _home_. _The Xavier mansion will _never_ be my home again_. Her lower lip started trembling. Her numbness dissipated and she began to break apart into a thousand pieces. _Oh, Charles…how could you?_ As Mystique stepped towards Azazel, needing to be held and reassured and told that everything was going to be _alright_, the silver bracelet on her wrist suddenly started to vibrate. Both mutants froze, alarmed that the jewelry was shaking of its own accord. As they watched the bracelet, the entire room started humming; everything metal seemed to be suddenly groaning in protest and pain. Mystique scanned the lobby and then inhaled sharply, her eyes going wide with shock. She quickly stepped away from her teammate. Azazel followed her eyes to the source of her fear and retracted his hands from her face, but it was too late.

Standing in the doorway with his arms tightly crossed and looking absolutely furious, was Erik.

"_Where. Have. You. Been_?" His voice boomed like thunder throughout the lobby. Mystique opened and closed her mouth like a fish gasping for air. Erik looked at the burn on her arm and creased his brow.

"What happened to your…?" Before he could finish his question, realization broke on Erik's face like water on a rock. "_Alex_." Charles was accidentally burned once by Alex. Mystique knew that Erik would recognize the injury. His shock was quickly replaced by seething rage.

"_You_…_you_ saw _Charles, didn't you_?" Erik hissed his accusation. Mystique turned her golden eyes downward in guilt, unable to meet Erik's demanding stare. Next to her, Azazel cleared his throat.

"Magneto, we just came from practice and…"

"_Shut up_! I wasn't speaking to _you_." Erik's piercing tone rendered Azazel speechless. While Mystique couldn't see his face, she could guess Azazel's mood from the erratic whipping of his tail and the cracking of his knuckles as he balled his hand into a fist at his side. Azazel did _not_ tolerate being spoken to harshly, even from Erik. She squeezed her eyes shut and silently prayed that she wouldn't get caught in another fight. With tensions running this high, she was sure Erik and Azazel would _kill_ each other.

"_Well_?" Her entire body began trembling. She and Azazel were in deep trouble, and it was all her fault. She looked up at Erik meekly, but could not summon her voice to respond. Erik waited a few seconds before rubbing his eyes in frustration.

"_Fine_. We'll do it _my _way. _Emma_!" Mystique felt lightheaded and powerless to stop the situation as it unfolded around her. If Emma read her mind, there was _no way_ she could hide the visit to Charles. She wanted to tell Erik, she really did, but not _here_, and not like _this_. Erik seized his helmet off the coffee table and marched up to Azazel. He regarded the red mutant with coldly narrowed eyes for a few seconds before thrusting the helmet onto Azazel's head. Azazel inhaled sharply and recoiled. Mystique flinched at Erik's use of forc_e. _

"There, maybe we can get a straight answer out of _someone_ today." Erik turned away from Azazel and stood a few feet away, monitoring the pair with crossed arms. Ever since questioning Mystique about Margali's bracelet, Erik had seemed wary around Azazel, as if he did not entirely trust him. She was certain Erik didn't believe the line Azazel just gave him about practice. Mystique glanced fearfully at Azazel. She couldn't really see his face due to the helmet, but he was breathing hard and his entire body was tense, reminding her of a bull getting ready to charge. Emma emerged from the kitchen holding a ruby colored cocktail. Her sparkling eyes went wide in puzzlement when she saw Azazel wearing Erik's helmet. The cocktail wobbled slightly in her hand.

"_What_ is going…?" Erik interrupted Emma's question by thrusting a finger sharply at Mystique. If his finger were a blade, it could have stabbed her.

"Tell me where _she_ was today."

"Magneto, why…"

"Just read her _fucking_ mind, _Emma_!" Emma shrunk back from Erik's infliction, accidentally splashing her drink on her pants. She swore under her breath and tried to brush the liquid away from the rapidly spreading stain on the white fabric. She gave up quickly, and setting her drink on a nearby end table, approached the accused pair. As she passed Erik, Mystique saw Emma shoot Azazel a brief but knowing look. With the helmet on, there was no way he and Emma could communicate. Emma stood in front of Mystique, placed her hands on her hips, and looked into the blue girl. Mystique tried to swallow but her throat was parched. She didn't even attempt to shield her mind. The tricks Charles taught her were for privacy among _friends_; if a telepath _really_ wanted to see inside her thoughts, there was no way to effectively stop them. Mystique could _feel_ Emma inside her head, shifting through her memories and experiences. The few times Charles had read Mystique's mind, he was always so gentle, as if each thought was a priceless heirloom. With Emma, having her mind read was like being torn apart by wolves; the sheer physicality of the act was almost painful. After a minute of concentration, Emma turned to Erik. Her expression was one of boredom, as if they were all wasting her precious time.

"They were practicing combat skills, in a field in Germany. They were there all morning." Mystique blinked, but showed no telltale reaction to Emma's lie. Azazel crossed his arms and gave Erik and smug look. Erik regarded Emma suspiciously.

"What about her arm? It's _burned_."

"That's because it _is_ a burn." Emma clarified, "It seems Azazel got carried away during training and threw her into a tree. She rubbed the skin off on the bark." Emma turned to face Azazel and scolded him.

"Really Azazel, you need to be more careful with our little Ms. Blue here. She is rather _delicate_." She turned back to Erik, and demanded in a haughty tone, "Are we done here? Because I need a new drink."

Erik looked at his team skeptically for a few seconds longer, and reluctantly nodded. Mystique didn't think that he actually _believed_ them, but he was smart enough to know that he wouldn't get any more information right now. At Erik's nod, Azazel tore the helmet off and practically threw it at his leader. Catching it before it hit him, Erik glared at the red mutant then stormed out the lobby towards his private quarters. Emma walked back to the end table and picked up her drink. Her hands were noticeably shaking as she clutched her glass like a cross. She frowned in the direction Erik disappeared. Azazel sighed, combed his hair back into place with his fingers, then walked over to Emma. He smiled at her in relief.

"Emma, I…" It was as far as Azazel got before Emma turned and slapped him so hard across his face that the remainder of her drink was spilled on the floor. Mystique gasped, covering her mouth and recoiling from the sound. Azazel reeled backwards from the force of Emma's slap, his pale eyes wide with shock and his hand instinctively covering the place where she had struck. Mystique didn't think it was possible, but his skin actually looked _redder_.

"I don't know what sick, _fucking_ game you two are playing at here," Emma jabbed a primly manicured finger inches away from Azazel's face, her tone as scorching as Erik's had been moments before. She shot a sour look at Mystique, "but it's _dangerous_ and it's _stupid_." She put her hands on her hips and focused her rage at Azazel.

"You know _better_. You know better than to take her to see that _goddamn_ brother of hers. You could have been _killed_, if not by him, then by Magneto. What's gotten into you lately? I can't believe I had to… I can't believe I just…" Emma's mouth was open but no sound was coming out.

"How _dare you_ make me lie for _her_…" Emma pointed an accusatory finger at Mystique, "…and _how dare_ you make me lie to _him_!" Emma's voice broke when she referred to Erik. The white mutant glanced quickly at Mystique with a mixed expression of anger, trepidation, and…_jealousy_. Mystique knew that Emma had been Shaw's second-in-command, and when they freed her, Mystique expected Emma to attempt to re-secure her prominent role through _whatever_ means necessary. Erik had brushed off Mystique's concerns about Emma, but the white mutant did eventually win back her position, this time by proving to be intelligent, resourceful, and strategic. In the Brotherhood, she was longer Shaw's dumb blonde; she was Emma Frost, Erik's feared right-hand _equal_. Now, with Emma's feelings exposed, Mystique suddenly realized that just as Erik was the first person to look at Mystique's true body and call her _beautiful_, he was the first person to look past Emma's beauty and call her mind _brilliant_. Erik, it seems, had a talent for making mutants fall in love.

"Emma, please…" Azazel reached out to her again.

"_No_. I should give you both week long_ migraines_ for this shit!" She roughly pushed Azazel's hand away. "Just…just leave me the _fuck_ out of _this_!" Pivoting on her heels, Emma ran toward the kitchen. Defeated, Azazel watched her exit with a stony expression. He took a few steps toward the kitchen, then hesitated and looked at Mystique. She nodded to him.

Azazel vanished, and a moment later, Mystique heard a shrill voice yelling in the kitchen, and the sound of a glass shattering. The lobby elevator opened and Angel and Janos entered the room, laden with several large shopping bags. Their boisterous Spanish halted when they heard the fighting noises emanating from the kitchen. Both mutants looked towards the argument in confusion. Angel was the first to notice Mystique standing alone in the lobby looking positively ill.

"_Qué_?" Angel's eyes widened when she saw Mystique's injury.

"Oh Mysty, what _happened_?" Angel thrust her shopping bags at Janos and ran to her friend. Janos staggered backwards under the weight, swore, and then deposited their bags on a nearby couch to join the girls.

"Angel, I just…we were…he was…" It was as far as Mystique got before the racking sobs that she kept at bay swelled up and became unbearable. She was drowning in a sea of raw emotion. She didn't know _where_ to begin - the look on Charles' face when he saw her, the fight at the mansion, Erik's accusation, Emma's rescue - this time, it was Janos who caught Mystique as she fell, finally breaking under the weight of everything that happened. Angel took the blue girl out of his arms and hugged her tightly, offering hushed, soothing words as they huddled on the lobby floor and Mystique wailed until her throat was raw. Janos eventually ushered the girls toward the kitchen to retrieve ice for Mystique's burn. All three mutants stopped in their tracks upon entering the room.

Azazel and Emma were standing in the kitchen lounge. Azazel was holding Emma tightly, his chin on top of her head and his hand gently holding her snowy blonde head against his chest. Emma was clutching the lapels Azazel's jacket as if she was drowning. Red rimmed eyes and wet streaks marred her flawless face. The visual contrast of Emma's stark white against Azazel's midnight black, the colors of good and evil, was blinding. Azazel was murmuring softly to her, like a parent trying to soothe a child's tears. Emma Frost, the woman who could turn into diamond, looked positively _fragile_. It was the first time Mystique realized that Emma was even _capable_ of crying. When she realized the other Brotherhood members had entered the kitchen, Emma turned her face away and whimpered like an injured animal. Without word, Azazel nodded and the pair disappeared in a burst of black, red, and white smoke. Angel hugged herself tightly and frowned as she watched them fade away. Janos sat Mystique down at the table and moved to the freezer to riffle for ice for her burn. Mystique looked at Angel, and then frowned herself.

_What is happening to us?_

* * *

><p>Mystique sat on her bed with her knees pulled to her chest, her arms wrapped tightly around them. She was rocking back and forth in an attempt to calm her mind. It was an old trick she had learned from her days on the street. When she was alone, the feel of her own arms had been the closest thing she had to someone hugging her when she was upset. Right now, she very much wanted to be alone.<p>

Her mind was still racing with the events of the last few hours, with the key parts playing back like a movie she couldn't stop watching. She still couldn't believe how the visit with Charles had ended, or how quickly her old friends turned on her. When she left them at the beach, she hadn't turned on them. The groups just had different ideals, that was all. Erik had been very clear that there would be no fighting between the mutant teams unless it was _absolutely_ necessary. The Brotherhood's mission was not to battle their own kind; their fight was against the humans that wanted to harm mutants. She was hurt by Hank's anger, and frankly, Alex _frightened_ her with his quickness to judge her and when he cornered her in the library. Despite Charles's anger, she was thankful that Azazel intervened. She was quite sure that Alex would have shot her then and there.

A short while after Angel and Janos left her to rest, Mystique slipped out of her room to look for Azazel. She knocked on his door and checked his usual haunts around the headquarters, but he was nowhere to be found. She resigned that he was probably somewhere very far away, and after today, she did not blame him. For a second, the thought of asking Emma to find him flashed across Mystique's mind, but this was quickly extinguished by the memory of Emma's earlier breakdown. The white mutant had never been fond of Mystique, but now she was sure that Emma must hate her. As much as Mystique wanted to return the feeling, she found that she pitied Emma more than anything else. Despite her appearance and attitude, Emma was a fallen queen. Mystique couldn't even begin to imagine how lonely Emma must be, and Erik's disapproval this afternoon must have been the final straw. The last time she had seen Erik so angry was on the beach when he fought with Charles.

Someone was knocking on Mystique's door. She hesitated, but at the second round of knocking, she decided to answer. Standing outside was Erik, the last person she expected to see. Surprised, Mystique made no movement from the doorway. Erik held her gaze steady for a few seconds before asking, "May I come in?"

"Oh," she hadn't realized she was blocking his entrance, "of course." Mystique moved aside and Erik strode past her into the room. She closed the door and turned to walk back to her bed, but stropped abruptly. Erik was blocking her way.

"I know you visited Charles today." Erik looked deep into Mystique's golden eyes. Mystique inhaled slowly and matched his stare, saying nothing.

"Emma and Azazel told me." At this, Mystique didn't know _what_ to think, and began to wonder if Erik's statement was a trick to achieve her admission of the visit. Erik wasn't one to play games, but she was hesitant to sell out two teammates who had protected her, for whatever reasons they had, earlier that day. Mystique remained silent. Erik cocked his head, as if he was reading her thoughts.

"You arm is…" he looked her now nearly healed wound, "…was burned from one of Alex's radiation blasts. There was a fight in the parlor. Moria was there, and a telekinetic girl with red hair. Charles had to stop the fight himself, then asked you and Azazel to leave." Mystique's heart sank and she turned her gaze guiltily to the floor. There was no way Erik could have guessed all those details. He had been told about her visit to Charles. _Why would Emma and Azazel do that?_ She braced herself as she waited for Erik to unleash hell on her for lying.

"Raven, how...how _is_ he?" Mystique's eyes snapped up at his broken voice. She was so busy waiting for him to scream at her that she didn't realize Erik was precariously close to tears. She didn't know what frightened her more – the thought of Erik breaking down or his lack of anger for his teammates lying to him.

"He's good. I mean, he's…Erik…Charles can't _walk_ anymore. He's in a _chair_." She motioned with her hands the wheels of a wheelchair. A lump formed in her throat when she remembered her own shock of seeing her brother crippled.

"You don't mean…a _wheelchair_? Charles is _paralyzed_?" Erik words were barely above a whisper. The color drained from his face as Mystique confirmed this. Erik slumped onto the bed and covered his face with his hands. His tears came fast, and hard.

"I did _it_, I did _it_, and I _left_ him…_oh god._" Erik choked on his words as he mourned for the brother he had abandoned. Mystique sat next to him and put her arms around him, but she had no more tears left to cry. After a time, Erik's tears ceased. He asked Mystique for the details of her visit and she told him everything.

"He doesn't blame you, for anything, and he misses you so much. I told him you missed him," Mystique hesitated, then added, "and that you wished things could have been different. That he could be here, with us."

"Not a day goes by when I don't wish he would choose be here Raven. Not one _goddamn_ day."

"You said that Emma and Azazel told you about the visit?" Mystique bit her lip. She didn't want to remind Erik that his soldiers had lied to him, but she needed to know why.

"Yes, they explained everything." Erik looked hesitantly at Mystique. "Emma, of course, easily saw the truth in your thoughts, but she also saw that you _wanted_ to tell me, but that you knew I would react…_badly_. Emma didn't want to start a fight between team members, so she diffused the situation and approach me when things dissipated. She and Azazel both apologized and swore their allegiance to our cause." Erik paused, then added in a serious tone, "this will not happen again Raven. We are a team, and teammates do not lie to one another." Mystique nodded in agreement.

"I'm sorry Erik. I just needed to see him, and if we are not _fighting_ Charles, I didn't see why I couldn't visit him."

"Raven, please understand - we might not be fighting _him_, but Charles fights _for_ the humans now. When we were a team, he really thought that if mutants revealed themselves and '_saved the world_,' then humans would accept us. That did not happen, and for someone who can read minds, he's a fool for thinking things will change. We are the _better_ men. We are the _future_." Erik swallowed thickly before continuing.

"I've lost all the family I've ever had. When you asked about Charles the other night, I thought...you would go _back_ to him. I just couldn't bare the thought of losing _both_ of you." Erik put his hand over Mystique's.

"Your talent, your unique, _beautiful_ skills are needed here Raven. You are one of the best soldiers I have, and each day I see you becoming more crucial to this team." Mystique smiled slightly but turned her gaze down at their hands. She appreciated being important, but she wasn't _just_ a soldier for him. It did not sit well that he never seemed to acknowledge their physical relationship. As Mystique tried to find words to voice this concern, she was caught off-guard by Erik's next statement.

"I do wish things were different, and that all mutants could fight together to throw off the shackles placed on us by humanity. I never thought I would fight for a higher cause until I met your brother. Before that day in the water, I thought I was alone in the world. I thought my powers controlled me, not the other way around. Shaw may have made me Raven, but Charles…" Erik's voice halted and his eyes glistened again. "Charles _saved_ me."

Erik fell silent. Mystique thought about his statement for a long time. Charles had indeed saved her too, and not just from a life on the street or starvation. With his anger, judgment and his allegiance to the government, Charles saved her from becoming the weak, pretty shell that was _Raven_ ever again. After today, Mystique knew who she _really_ was. She squeezed Erik's hand and he looked up at her expectantly.

"Yes?"

"I prefer if you called me _Mystique_."

* * *

><p>"What a <em>dick hole<em>, making you leave like that when you didn't even _do_ anything." Angel always seemed to have the most colorful descriptions for any situation. It was quite late, and Mystique was sitting in kitchen with Angel, Janos, and Mort. In the past few weeks, Mort had started spending more time with the younger mutants, and tonight the four sat round the table eating ice cream out of the containers. As they ate, Mystique told the others about her visit to the mansion. Erik had retired for the day and no one had seen either Emma or Azazel since the afternoon.

"Charles was just trying to protect everyone. His new student can't control her powers, which must suck because she is powerful. I mean _really_ powerful." Mystique knew that if she ever gained full control of her abilities, Jean could easily be the most powerful mutant they would ever meet. She reached for the vanilla pint.

"Well," Angel continued, "it's obvious that it _wasn't_ Red's fault that any of that shit went down. He was just doing what any of us would have done."

"And that would be what?"

"Protecting _you_." Angel stabbed her spoon into the chocolate ice cream. "Clearly he thought you were in danger with all the screaming and whatnot."

"You said Charles was in '_mental contact_' with the red guy?" Mystique nodded. Mort was fascinated with telepaths.

"Yeah, Charles left an open link to contact him to come back at the end of the visit. Azazel works really well with telepaths."

"Exactly my point," Angel said, riding on Mort's statement. "Red was probably tapped in the whole time, heard the chaos, figured something was up and didn't want you to get hurt. It's the same thing any of us would have done."

"You would have done that for me?"

"Hell _yeah_ I would have! I am not going to sit by and let someone fuck with one of my teammates." Janos heartily nodded in agreement with Angel, and Mort gave Mystique a thumbs-up.

"Man, I just can't believe your own _brother_ would kick you out of the house you grew-up in." Angel reached for a new pint, but made a face when she saw it was mint chocolate chip. Mort happily took it from her and dug his spoon in.

"He's not really my brother. I am more like an _adopted_ sister."

"Who cares what he calls you? Families come in call shapes and sizes. Plus, just because you are blood related doesn't guarantee anything. Look at _our_ families for fuck's sake. Did they accept us? _No_. A family should be a group of people who love and accept you for who you _are_."

Silence descended on the kitchen table as the four mutants reflected on this. Each of them came from families that had not accepted them, and it was a topic they discussed over the past few days. Mystique's family tied to kill her. Angel's own mother dragged her into a church by her hair, begging a priest to exorcise the girl because she thought her mutation was the work of demons. Angel ran away when her mother tried to cut off her wings, and she found more acceptance as a stripper than as a daughter. Janos was born into a poor Mexican family, and after moving illegally to Louisiana at age 8, he worked in a team of petty thieves to rob tourists on the streets of New Orleans. Ironically, it wasn't his mutation that got him alienated from his family; when Janos was sixteen, he worked up the courage to bring his boyfriend home, and his fundamentally religious father drove him out of the house with a gun for being gay. Like Mystique, Mort's mother and father abandoned at birth. His only "family" was the orphanage children, who were damaged, cruel, and mean. The four mutants were exiles, freaks, and…

"_Famila_." Janos smiled and looked at Angel, then at Mort and Mystique in turn.

"We are family." It was one of the rare times Janos spoke English. Angel slowly smiled and nodded her head in agreement. Mystique thought about Janos words for a while before grinning to match Angel. After life with Charles, she never thought she'd be part of any family again. Angel laughed out loud and put her hand on Janos's shoulder.

"Honey, I couldn't have said it better myself. The Brotherhood? We're _family_, and we're no more fucked-up or messed-up than the rest of 'em."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Azazel had started teleporting during their training sessions. At first, Mystique had argued that it wasn't fair, as several times she would have made contact had Azazel not vanished a second before she struck. Azazel shrugged off her complaints with an amused grin, merely pointed out that she'd always face surprises in battle and she needed to be ready for anything.

The events of the week prior were now firmly in Mystique's past. There was no question that the visit to Charles changed her. After her teammates had gone to sleep that night, Mystique secretly made her way to the hotel lobby and placed her music box and her old photograph in fireplace. As she watched the flames consume her mementos, she resolved to never again wear the face of Raven. She was a solider of the Brotherhood now, and after Janos's astute observation, she realized her fellow mutants were so much more than _just_ teammates; they were her _family_. Erik was back on good terms with everyone, although he and Azazel maintained a polite but reserved attitude toward one another.

Erik, Emma, and Janos were currently away on a week-long mission in Central America, leaving Angel, Mystique, Mort, and Nick to man the headquarters. Azazel came and went as needed, but in his down time, he was becoming more social with the others. The previous afternoon Azazel even joined them in Hellfire Club Lounge, where the younger mutants were laughing and drinking, and Mystique even convinced him (however reluctant) to play the piano for the group. After a few songs he relaxed, teasing Angel when she yelled out pop song requests and smiling more easily than Mystique had seen in recent weeks. The night before the Brotherhood mission, Mystique found the courage to approach Emma and express her gratitude for Emma's intervention with Erik in the hotel lobby. She knew Emma had done so for Azazel's benefit – Mystique knew that she meant little to Emma – but Mystique was still grateful. Not one mutant breathed a word about Emma's breakdown. She returned to her normal, frosty attitude the following evening, pretending nothing out of the ordinary transpired, and the younger mutants were smart enough to follow her lead. Mystique was genuinely surprised when Emma was receptive to her gratitude, giving Mystique a curt nod and _not_ slamming the door in her face this time. As Mystique walked away from Emma's room, one curious thing did take place; halfway down the hallway, Emma's voice echoed softly in Mystique's head: _just don't hurt him_.

Mystique froze in her tracks and looked over her shoulder. Emma stood half-concealed by her bedroom door, peering out from the shadows. Her cerulean eyes were infinity pools, omnipotent and unreadable all at once.

_Who? Erik? _Mystique thought projected and laughed nervously. _I think he's a bit tougher than that_. Emma eyed Mystique for a few seconds more before turning away and retreating into her room. As her door clicked shut, Mystique heard Emma's voice one last time: _either of them_. Mystique shook her head at the white mutant's cryptic warning and walked away faster, trying to flee from the unseen chill in her bones.

Right now, however, Mystique was not dwelling on the events of the last week. Instead, she was doubled over, her chest heaving as she shot Azazel a sharp look of frustration. He stood on the far side of the clearing, his arms crossed and a spirited expression on his face. When she stood up, he was gone. She braced herself and concentrated, holding her practice sword at the ready. The hardest thing about fighting a teleporter was that she had to be constantly aware of her surroundings at all times, as Azazel could appear absolutely anywhere. She had learned to listen for the distinct _whoosh_ of air that sounded the second before he fully materialized. If she could just react fast enough, she might have a shot at hitting him before he could hit first.

Suddenly, there was a noise to her left. Mystique spun and thrust her sword, cutting through smoke. She swore under her breath, and a second later cried out as she fell, her hip stinging from Azazel's wooden blade. Before she could get to her feet, Mystique vanished and reappeared a hundred feet above the pond, Azazel's hand firmly knotted in her hair. Before he could release her, she growled and lunged forward, entwining the fingers of her free hand tightly around the Mandarin collar of his jacket. Azazel made the fatal mistake of telling her once that it was difficult for him to teleport away from anything _directly_ touching his skin. At this short distance, he wouldn't have enough time to lose both his shirt and jacket. As they fell toward the water, she narrowed her feline eyes and hissed, "_I_ swim, _you_ swim!"

The corners of his lips twisted upwards at her challenge. Mystique was learning to use her opponent's powers against him. The pair vanished seconds before breaking the water's surface. Mystique landed hard on the ground and quickly rolled to her right, narrowly dodging the spike of Azazel's tail. As he swore and pulled to free his tail from the ground, Mystique vaulted to her feet and plunged her sword. Azazel jumped backwards, throwing his arms out for balance. He scarcely avoided the strike of her blade, and her swing caused him to accidentally drop his own sword. The mixture of surprise and uncertainty on his face only encouraged her. Adrenaline surged through Mystique's veins, and she brought her sword down like a hammer. Azazel teleported madly to avoid her blows. Suddenly, he appeared next to Mystique and seized her wrist, trying to wrench the sword out of her hand. Before he could take command of her weapon, Mystique threw her sword as far as she could away from him. She twisted out of his grip and ran towards his fallen weapon. _If I can just get there first_…as she reached his wooden sword, she heard Azazel vanish. Trusting her instincts, she skidded to a halt, closed her eyes and threw her fist out in front of her.

Something was wrong. _My fist hit something_. Mystique opened her eyes and looked around wildly, waiting for Azazel to reappear. When she finally looked down, she let out a surprised gasp. Azazel was sprawled on the ground, looking dazed with his hand pressed to his mouth. When he pulled it away, there was blood on his fingers. They looked at each other in shock. Mystique finally did it – she _hit_ him! At this realization, both mutants burst out in laughter. Giddy with her victory, Mystique held out her hand to help Azazel to his feet. He smiled in admiration, and firmly gasping her hand, he quickly snapped her towards the ground. She yelped from his unexpected move, and through sheer luck, recovered quickly enough to roll sideways and avoid another attempted strike from his tail.

_This motherfucker never gives_ _up_, she thought, a smile still on her face. _Well, two can play _this_ game_. Before Azazel could make his next move, Mystique spun around and seized his right arm. Thrusting her hand into his sleeve, she grabbed the handle of one of the daggers he always kept concealed. Azazel's eyes widened in alarm as she withdrew the real blade, and he flipped the blue girl on her back and forcefully pressed her to the ground. As he scrambled to gain control of the dagger, Mystique pulled her legs up and kicked as hard as she could, breaking his grip and sending Azazel hurdling over her head. With a loud thud, Azazel hit the ground. Wasting no time, Mystique sprung up and vaulted on top of him, straddling his waist and fiercely pressing the dagger to his throat. This time, Azazel did not attempt to fight back. He closed his eyes and lay perfectly still, trying to regain a steady breath. Mystique had won. She leaned down until her face was inches away from his.

"_Enough_?" Mystique taunted wickedly. He opened his eyes and regarded Mystique's dare seriously for a moment. She watched the veins in his neck flash against the metal of the blade, and smiled at the messy strands of coal black hair stuck to the sweat of his brow. He turned his head and roughly spit a mixture of blood and saliva. When he looked at her again, there was an unmistakable gleam of pride in storm blue eyes.

"_Ilya_."

"What?" Mystique cocked her head, confused. Azazel swallowed before he spoke again.

"My name. It is…was Ilya. Ilya Kurt Wagner. I promised it, if you earned it, and you just did." He smiled widely at her, exposing all of his dazzling teeth. They were slightly stained pink from his blood. "_Lioness_."

"_ILL-EE-UH_." Mystique pronounced the name as if she was tasting each syllable. She withdrew the dagger from his throat and dropped it in the grass next to him. She was a _lioness_. Her smile grew wider until she started giggling, finally bursting into hearty laughter, joined by Azazel seconds later. Everything – the scenery, his defeat, and their history together – all of it seemed so fitting and so ridiculous at the same time. When her laughing ceased, she sighed and caught her breath, and looked back down at Azazel. He was still grinning and looking at her with unmasked pride. Then, drunk on her triumph and spurred on by some wild, reckless impulse, Mystique leaned down and kissed him.

Kissing is such a funny thing. The actual act of pressing one's lips against another's mouth and sharing saliva, bacteria, and breath is just downright odd when one actually stops to think about it. Yet somehow human and mutant-kind evolved to find the act of kissing a natural, pleasant way to affirm mutual affection. For Mystique, this simple, instinctual act had always been downright _dangerous_. To lose herself so much that she could close her eyes, _let go_, and kiss another…well, until Erik came along, she never really got to _enjoy_ kissing. Even with Hank, she always had to restrain herself to avoid accidentally shifting her skin. Lately, Erik didn't seem to care about her physical needs, and right here, right now with Azazel…everything suddenly felt so _right_.

Time slowed and Mystique was acutely aware of so many things simultaneously. The coolness of the meadow grass against her knees; the cry of a bird somewhere in the distance; the drumbeat of her heart from fighting; the bruise that she was sure was blooming on her hip; but most of all, she felt the warmth radiating from Azazel's body, and drank in the sweetly sour taste of blood, sweat, and smoke on his lips. She was surprised by the subtle differences in the texture of his skin; the coarseness of his beard and the smooth scar tissue from the ancient wound cutting across his left eye. Azazel had one hand on her shoulder, and his other resting on her collarbone. He wasn't holding her, but he wasn't pushing her back either. While Mystique couldn't be exactly sure, part of her swore that Azazel was kissing her back, even if only a little.

Then, as suddenly as it started, the kiss was over. As Mystique pulled back, Azazel looked at her with wide eyes, unable to hide his obvious shock. He lay on the ground, blinking slowly as if he was unsure that what had just happened, did in fact, _happen_. Mystique smiled sweetly, but after a few seconds when Azazel's surprise melted into apprehension, her smiled faltered.

"Well, I, um…" She tried to think of something to say to diffuse the situation.

"I think it is enough practice for today." Azazel sat up suddenly. His movement caused Mystique to lose her balance, and she hit the ground with an audible _oomph_. He grimaced as she landed next to him.

"Sorry." Azazel reached out to steady her, but before he touched Mystique, he hastily pulled his hand back. He knitted his brow in frustration and looked down at his hands, clearly unsure of what to do.

"No, it's Ok. I'm Ok." Mystique rubbed her arm where she landed and glanced sideways at Azazel. _He just spent all morning hitting me during practice, and now he apologizes for accidentally knocking me over?_ Azazel stood and ran his hand through his hair attempting to sooth it back into place. He looked edgy. Mystique climbed to her feet and stood awkwardly facing her teammate. After a slight hesitation, he thrust an open hand in her direction. She could tell by Azazel's body language that he was going to teleport them back to headquarters. As she took his hand, she noticed his dagger still laying at their feet, and the wooden training swords behind them. She frowned.

"Shouldn't we get your swords first?"

"I'll get them later." Before she could argue, Mystique was enveloped in smoke. As soon as they appeared, he released her hand. Mystique turned to face him, waving away vapor and coughing.

"Hey Azazel, I…"

"Very good today!" He interrupted her, his smile overly friendly and somewhat forced. Mystique raised an eyebrow. "You were very good today…in _practice_! You practiced _well_." Before she could react, Azazel looked away and disappeared. Mystique stood in the lobby for a few moments longer before putting her hands over her face and exhaling loudly. _What did I do now?_

* * *

><p>"Angel, do you have a minute?" Mystique stood outside her Angel's bedroom door. The winged mutant was half-dressed for a night out.<p>

"Mysty babe, for you I have two." Angel swung her door open and waved her friend inside. "Also, I need help deciding what to wear. _Avalanche_ is taking me out tonight." Angel batted her eyes and pursed her lips suggestively. Mystique grinned and took a seat at the edge of Angel's bed.

Mystique always liked being in Angel's room. Compared to her own bedroom, Angel's living space felt like less like a converted hotel room and more like a real home. It was a normal girl's room, with colorful bedding, fashion and band posters adoring the walls, make-up scattered across the vanity and clothing and shoes tossed about in every direction. In a strange way, Mystique found it comforting to be immersed in such an _ordinary_ setting. Her own mutation made so many mundane things unnecessary. If Mystique needed to wear a dress, she simply created one from her skin. It was a disadvantage to wear real clothes or accessories in case she needed to quickly transform. In recent days, she had stopped wearing Margali's bracelet, choosing instead to keep it safely tucked away in her dresser. Mystique had no need to collect various other affects because she simply didn't even have pockets or the need for purses in which to keep anything. Her living spaces had always been austere, even when she lived with the Xaviers.

"Ok, shoot. What's on your mind?" Both girls had agreed upon a shimmery, black dress and silver heels, and Angel was now seated at her vanity, applying thick charcoal eyeliner.

"Promise you can keep a secret?"

"_Pffff_, no." Angel smiled warmly at Mystique's reflection in the mirror. "But I can try." Mystique knew she could trust Angel (knowing, of course that Angel would tell everything to Janos, who in turn Mystique could trust not to tell a soul).

"Well, I kind of…maybe…sort of…" Mystique trailed off and gazed down at her feet. Her hands were clasped nervously in her lap. Once she admitted what she was about to say, there would be no going back.

"…I _kissed_ Azazel today, during practice. But it was an accident." Mystique bit her lower lip and looked sheepishly at her friend. "Sort of."

"_Shut_. _Up_." Angel spun around and faced Mystique, her mouth hanging open. Her make-up was only applied to one eye, giving her face a comically lopsided appearance. Her mouth slowly formed a playful grin. "You little _slut_!" Mystique snorted at Angel's teasing. The winged girl scooted forward on her seat and looked at Mystique expectantly. After a few silent seconds, Angel sighed, exasperated.

"_Well_?"

"Well _what_?"

"What do you mean, '_what_'? Details, Mysty! Did he kiss you back? Was he a good kisser?" Angel dropped her voice suggestively. "Do you think he'd be good in bed? Janos and I talked about that once, and we both thought that…"

"Angel, this _isn't_ helping!" Mystique crossed her arms. Angel quickly picked up on Mystique's serious mood. She turned back to her mirror and picked up her eyeliner.

"Sorry babe. It's just so…_insane_, you know? You and Azazel, huh?"

"There is no '_me _and_ Azazel_,'" Mystique corrected. "I'm _Erik's_ girl, remember?" At the sound of Erik's name, Mystique frowned. She hadn't really thought about how he was going to react to this. Actually, she hadn't really thought about Erik at all since he left almost a week ago, but then again, she was used to him leaving for long periods of time, sometimes not even telling her when he left or when he'd be back. _I am Erik's girl_, she told herself, but Mystique had already begun to question if Erik ever thought of her as anything more than his soldier. Angel seemed to be reading her friend's mind.

"Yeah, well...does _Erik_ know you're _Erik's_ girl?" Angel finished her eye make-up and faced Mystique again, her expression serious. "Because from what you've been telling me these last few months, our wonderful leader doesn't seem to realize that you and he are in a relationship. And don't think that I'm the only one to notice either," Angel held up her hand, stopping Mystique from interrupting. "Janos and Mort have _both_ mentioned it, and Lord knows that I've seen Red make a face or two behind Mags' back."

"Really?" Mystique's face flushed slightly at the though of Azazel's jealousy. At this impulse, Mystique felt culpable again. Angel quirked her eyebrow.

"Yeah, _really_. So…you gonna tell me what_ exactly_ happened today or what ?" Mystique took a deep breath and told Angel everything, beginning with practice and ending with her and Azazel returning to the lobby. When she finished, Angel considered the situation thoughtfully. Mystique twisted her fingers in her lap.

"Hmm…" Angel tapped her finger against her lower lip in concentration. "Well, the good news is that I doubt Red's actually _upset_. He's probably just shocked that a girl as young as you would kiss him. He is like, twice our age. Plus, I don't think Red's used to being physically touched, unless it's by someone he's, you know…killing. I mean, _look_ at him." As soon as she said these words, Angel grimaced and cast a mortified look at Mystique. The blue mutant motioned that she was not offended by Angel's reference to her and Azazel's rather _unique_ appearences.

"Babe, you know that's _not_ what I meant. It's just that mutants who look like Red can't exactly walk into a club and walk out with a date. You know this from dating Hank. Hank _is_ a mutant and that _douche_ couldn't accept you for how you looked. It's probably been a long time since Red's been kissed and he just freaked out and didn't know what to do. Plus, it doesn't exactly help that the woman who kissed him is dating his insanely powerful, metal-bending _boss_, so there's that to think about too." Angel sighed and looked at Mystique.

"Why did you kiss him, anyways?"

"I…I don't know. It just kind of happened, all of a sudden." _It felt like the right thing to do._ Mystique closed her eyes, trying to banish the thought. She was confused enough, and didn't need her own mind tricking her.

"Honestly Mysty, I always thought you and Red would be cute together. You're both so…" Angel motioned to Mystique's body, unsure of the correct way to express herself. "_Colorful_." At this, Mystique burst out into laughter. Angel giggled and grabbed her shoes.

"Go apologize then, if you think that's really what you need to do. But Mysty…" Angel tilted her head and smiled. "Don't do anything you don't _want_ to do. You can sit here all night and tell me it was an "_accident_," but I know you, and I know that part of you _liked_ kissing him. And I don't think I'm wrong in saying that part of him wanted to kiss you _too_. There's nothing wrong with wanting to be happy you know." Angel put the finishing touches on her outfit and struck a posed for Mystique.

"How do I look?"

"Beautiful, as always."

"Hey, why don't you come with me tonight? I'm sure Mort would love tag along as a double date. He's got a crush on you."

"No I…wait, Mort? _Really_?"

"Yeah, he's sweet on you. Of course, we'll have to stop somewhere and pick up a baseball bat for you, so you can beat all these guys away." Angel winked at Mystique and both girls pealed into laughter. When they recovered, Angel hugged her friend reassuringly.

"Thanks, Angel. I think I know what to do now." Mystique stood up and walked to the door. As her hand closed around the knob, Angel called out.

"Hey Mysty, don't forget! If you two end up, you know…" Angel mischievously raised her eyebrow and mimicked the sound of bedsprings bouncing. Mystique blushed and shot a playful, _go-to-hell_ look at her now snickering friend.

"I want _details_. And so will Janos!"

* * *

><p>Mystique knocked on Azazel's bedroom door. As she stood waiting for an answer, she was desperately trying to calm her nerves. For the last two hours, she carefully worked out an apology that she hoped would soothe everything over. After discussing things with Angel, she decided that Azazel had reacted awkwardly because he was afraid of Erik. All she had to do was tell Azazel that it had been a silly mistake, that she was sorry she got him involved and that they should simply forget that it happened. It's not that she didn't like Azazel – she did, very much in fact – but it would never work between them. She kissed him because she missed Erik, she was just confused, that was all, and…<p>

"Mystique?" Azazel peered out at her from a partially opened door. Lost in her thoughts, Mystique startled at the sound of her name. She wondered how long he had been standing in the doorway looking at her. Azazel leaned easily against the door's frame, but the mood on his face was hard to decipher.

"Azazel! Oh good. You _are_ here. Uh…_hi_. Can I…May I speak with you?" Azazel regarded her silently for a moment before nodding his approval. Much to her surprise, he swung his door open wider and motioned for her to enter. Once inside, Mystique was surprised by what she found.

If one word could describe Azazel's living space, it was _color_. Standing in his room was like being transported back the meadow when it was littered with the brilliant Roma caravans. Not one inch of his room was untouched by vibrancy: from the jewel-tone silks that adored his bed and twisted upward into a canopy to the walls covered with pages torn from art and science books, everywhere was glimpse into a world too often seen only through windows. As Mystique surveyed his room, she saw numerous books scattered about, a record player with a large stack of vinyl albums (and from a quick glance at the records, she was right: he _did_ like American music far more than he let on), half-written sheets of music, several swords hanging on or leaning against various walls, random personal effects, and what she was pretty sure was Janos's missing deck of cards on his dresser. The thing that really caught Mystique's eye, however, was the wall of tacked-up drawings.

There must have been dozens of drawings in various stages of completion, of all different subject matters. As Mystique stepped closer to look, she was surprised to recognize sketches of various Brotherhood members. There were several drawings of Emma, a few of Janos and Angel, and even some of Mystique. There was even an excellent drawing of Erik in his full Magneto regalia. She smiled as she thought about the sketch she found in the lobby months ago. _Looks like I found my artist_. As she scanned the drawings, her heart skipped a beat when she recognized two very carefully done renderings of Adriana. Instead of the more serious locket photograph, in these drawings,she was laughing and smiling, her hands in the air as she moved to music long since faded away. In both, she looked vibrant and happy and so very alive. As Mystique studied the drawings, she heard the door close, and with a soft click, she realized Azazel locked it. There was no going back now.

"You like them, _nyet_?" Azazel was now standing directly behind her.

"Did you draw these? They're beautiful."

"_Da_. I like drawing, ever since I was young. It is good to do since I could not always go outside." Azazel pointed over Mystique's shoulder to the drawings of Adriana.

"This is how I like to remember her. She was always so full of life, always moving. Dancing." He leaned down when he spoke, and she could feel his breath on the back of her neck, stirring her hair.

"Do you miss her?"

"Everyday." Mystique slowly turned around and gazed up at Azazel. He was no longer looking at the drawings on the wall, but rather, he was gazing intensely at Mystique.

"But…she would not want me to spend the rest of my life sad for her." As he spoke, he reached out and boldly ran his fingers through Mystique's hair, combing it from just behind her ear to the nape of her neck. He let his hand rest on her shoulder, and dropped his voice just above a whisper.

"Sometimes the hardest thing we have to do is _let go_ of someone we love. It does not mean we love them any less. It only means that we have to go on. We have to _survive_."

His eyes shined like crystals. Mystique thought back to that first night she found Azazel playing the piano in the Hellfire Club Lounge. Truthfully, the intensity of him thrilled and frightened her in equal measure. She would be a liar if she denied that, despite her screams and terror, part of her had wanted very badly to touch him that night at the CIA compound, to make sure Azazel was indeed _real_, and to know there was someone out there just like her. She swallowed. This time she rehearsed her apology thoroughly so that the words she spoke would match the words she composed in her mind.

"Azazel, I wanted to…."

She never got to finish. As she spoke, Azazel traced his fingertips up her neck, across her ceratoid artery and rested his fingers lightly on her chin. He hesitated for a second, then cupping her face in his hands, he leaned down and brought her mouth up to meet his. At the brush of his lips, Mystique felt like she was melting into a thousand butterflies.

He kissed her lightly at first, and when she responded, he grew more aggressive. He pulled Mystique flush against his body and kissed her passionately, as if his very existence depended on it. In his eagerness, he rushed forward, awkwardly pushing Mystique backwards into his dresser. She thrust her hand out, regaining her balance by pushing off the corner of the dresser and knocking a few items off it in the process. She grabbed the collar of his shirt with her free hand and pulled her body against his once again. This time his tail coiled around them to keep her from falling away. His hands moved from her face, sliding down her throat and roaming along the spaces along her collarbone and tracing the scales along her shoulders. Azazel tasted of fire and smoke, of violence and love and sin and all manner of things she ached for but could not name.

"Azazel…we shouldn't…" Mystique whispered, closing her eyes as his mouth traveled away from hers and trailed down her neck. She let out her breath as she felt his teeth graze her skin. All the hesitation he showed early that day was gone. His hands mapped the ridges along her spine, explored the soft curve of her waist, and the rough texture of her scales between her breasts. Suddenly, she felt the familiar sensation of falling…and she was lying on her back in his bed, smoke dissipating in the air around them. He took her face in both of his hands again and eagerly kissed her. She ran her hands up his taut arms and tangled them in his hair. She felt as if she could drown in his arms. As they embraced, he began to undo the buttons of his shirt with one hand.

"I'm…I'm Erik's…girl…" She murmured, trying to remind herself more than him. He shrugged off his shirt and held himself above her.

"_Nyet_, _devochka._ Not tonight."

Mystique looked deeply into his eyes. She looked into the hunger, the veneration, the memories, and the desire. He was everything and nothing and more all at once. She slid her hand from his face to his neck and chest, resting her palm over his heart, feeling its rhythmic beating. Blue and red. Ice, fire. Lioness. _Killer_.

"Tonight you are _mine_."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

She had never been with a man quite like Azazel.

Mystique had experience with men; this was true. In the backseat of an old Chevy, she lost her virginity to the first boy who made her laugh. It was awkward and messier than she imagined, but it was not a wholly unpleasant experience. Despite his promises, he never called her, and later ignored her completely in the school hallways, but Mystique hadn't really cared. She wasn't in love with him and truthfully, she had only slept with him to have a _normal_ teenage experience. Having something ordinary to cry over with her friends, something that made her feel like she _belonged_, was the most important part of the experience.

Mystique had fallen in love once years later, with one of Charles's fellow classmates. He was the first man to ever make Mystique truly happy, and she thought he was the one human she would finally reveal herself to (after all, he was a genetic scientist like Charles; surely if anyone would understand, it would be he). But one afternoon in the heat of a passionate moment, Mystique accidentally shifted her skin. The mistake lasted for only a second, but it was enough that he recoiled in fear and pushed her violently away. Mystique choked back tears and tried to explain, desperate to make him to see that how she _looked_ shouldn't change how he _felt_, but as the man hurled the words _freak_ and _monster_ at her, she knew that he would never understand. Charles had to intervene and wipe his friend's mind to the point where both he and Mystique were cut out of the man's memories with a surgeon's precision. Her brother had been badly shaken by the experience, as it had jeopardized he and his sister's true identities. As the two siblings held each other and cried on the floor of their shared flat, Mystique wasn't sure what had hurt more: the fact that the man she loved had not actually loved her in return, or that it was the first time she doubted Charles's ability to fully comprehend the reality of her mutation. From that day on, Mystique never truly enjoyed intimacy because of the amount of restraint involved. She was always afraid of losing control.

Mystique had truly believed things would be different the day she kissed silly, shy Hank McCoy. He was the first mutant she ever dated, but even with their bond over appearances and conversations about normality, it became quickly apparent that Hank didn't want Mystique for how she was; rather, he wanted her as she _could_ be. Hank looked at her with glassy eyes and called her beautiful, but of course, she had been hidden behind the beautiful skin of Raven at the time; he might as well have called her shoes beautiful for all his words truly meant. It was this shame that drove her into Erik's arms in the first place, but Mystique soon realized that even in Erik's bed and in her true skin, she still felt self-conscious. Erik's body was hard, smooth, and perfect. No matter how many times he said the word _beautiful_, compared to Erik's perfection, she felt ugly and broken.

But not with Azazel.

The first time she slid her hands down Azazel's chest, Mystique gasped. She had never seen him without his shirt on, and she had not been anticipating the scars on the hard muscles of his body like the one that marked his face. The healed wounds made his crimson skin feel familiar, similar to her own scales. As they made love, she traced the lines and mapped the scars of his body; each one was a story, a memory._ This one?_ Mystique whispered, running her fingers over an ancient cut on Azazel's forearm. He slid his hands from her breasts to her hips, drawing her tightly against him. _The first time I fenced with a real sword._ She traced the scar cutting dramatically down his face. _This?_ He playfully bit her finger as it brushed across his lips. _The day I fought the soldiers for Adriana._ She ran her hand appraisingly across his chest. _And this?_ She fanned her fingers out just above his heart, intoxicated from the heat of his body. _One of my favorites, _he whispered, pulling Mystique up into a sitting position on his lap, gazing deeply into her golden eyes. _I got it the same day I met you. _She sucked in her breath through her teeth as he entered her then, and wrapping her legs tightly around him, she moved with the pulse of his body.

From the moment he put his hands her, Mystique was acutely aware that this was not a casual encounter. This was not something that they would laugh about and wash off in the morning like watercolor paint. Every move Azazel made was purposeful, ritual, and he looked at her like she was the source of light in a desolate world. Mystique was both terrified and intrigued that the same hands that now caressed her could just as easily end her life with seamless precision. Being with Azazel was like running her hand over the flame of a candle. Together they moved as one, the rhythm of their bodies growing more rapid, their breathing more labored until they reached a breaking point and clinging tightly to one another, cried out in release. Afterward, Mystique lay on her back numb with pleasure, relishing the feel of her body sinking down into the silk of the sheets as Azazel panted for breath next to her.

One thing experience had taught Mystique was that everything there was to know about a man could be deciphered from his behavior in the first few moments after sex. Azazel didn't push away and maintain his side of the bed, nor did he hastily replace any clothing. Rather, he rolled onto his side facing her, his tail snaking around her leg, the tip twitching like a resting cat's. For a long time, he lightly ran his fingers across the intricate patterns of her scales, looking at Mystique as if she was a work of art. She almost blushed from the intensity of his gaze, and she certainly did feel her face grow hot when he unabashedly asked her what she liked in bed. When she didn't know how to answer, she was touched by the sad look that drifted across his face. Honestly, she'd never been asked what _she_ wanted, or how _she_ liked things. Mystique had always been too focused on maintaining control of her mutation to consider her own desires. Even with Erik, the instinct to be afraid of losing control remained, and while she had always enjoyed their physical relationship, she couldn't recall a time when Erik asked what he could do to please _her_.

"Perhaps we find out together, then?" Azazel stroked the inside of her hip as he spoke. His words were no more than a whisper, but they brought Mystique back to full consciousness. She suddenly reached out, wanting to be sure he was _really_ there next to her, that this whole experience wasn't just a trick of her mind. He was; his hand warm and alive under hers. Lacing his fingers through hers, Azazel pulled her back to him. It wasn't long before they were connected again, touching, exploring, and finally just _letting go_. After the second time they climaxed, they collapsed into a tangle of arms and legs, of secrets, sin, and sweat.

For the first time in a long time, Mystique felt utterly content. She lay with her head on Azazel's chest, her eyelids growing heavy with the instinct to sleep as she listened to the lullaby of his heartbeat. Given Azazel's mutation, she was sure part of him had been starved for physical affection. All of his books, drawings, and music could occupy his mind, they couldn't replace the connection of another living, breathing person. Mystique understood this need all too well, but at this moment, she desired nothing more than to sink down into the welcoming haven that Azazel's arms provided. As she drifted off to sleep, Azazel stroked her hair, whispering to her in languages she did not speak, but with words whose meanings she could easily understand.

* * *

><p>The twinkling lights of Las Vegas grew like clustered fireflies as night descended on the desert city. As the fogginess of sleep lifted and Mystique's eyes fluttered open, she was as briefly confused by her surroundings. When she looked down and saw the crimson arm draped over her waist, she smiled. She lay on her side listening to Azazel gently snoring behind her, and reflected on how far the two had come since the beach. <em>If I had been told then where I would be almost a year later, I would never have believed it<em>. She reached down and brought Azazel's hand up to her heart. Even as she snuggled into the warm cocoon of his body, deep down inside, Mystique knew that they needed to talk about what had happened. She wished she could ignore the nagging fear that acknowledging certain facts could potentially ruin whatever had passed between them, but the reality of their situation could only be ignored for so long. Mystique wrapped both her hands around his and held onto it tightly as if his hand was the anchor from the storm of emotions in her heart.

"Azazel?" Mystique spoke his name softly. Her bed mate stirred and then stretched before curling around her. He buried his face in her hair and became still again, trying to drift back to sleep. His breath was warm and steady on the back of her neck.

"_Hey_." This time Azazel responded with a noncommittal grunt, followed by something that sounded vaguely like "five more minutes." Mystique smirked. _I guess we can talk when we are both a little more awake_, she reasoned. As her eyelids grew heavy again, Emma's voice suddenly cut through her like a knife.

"Everyone report the lobby in five minutes for a debriefing."

Snatched back from the edge of sleep, Mystique gasped and bolted upright in bed. The cold rush of adrenaline flooded her body and only after a panicked moment, she realized that Emma was not _in_ the room with her and Azazel. The white mutant had only projected her voice into the mutants' thoughts. Still, the realization didn't stop Mystique's heart from racing, and she sighed in deep relief as she looked down at Azazel. He was fully awake now, looking up at the bead's canopy with a slight frown. He had seen her panic, and suddenly Mystique felt ashamed. She had simply startled, but she knew that her reaction could easily have looked like she was embarrassed to be caught with him. After a moment, his eyes met Mystique's, but his face had become impassive.

"We should arrive in the lobby separately." Mystique nodded in agreement. More than before, she needed to talk to him, to reassure him, but thanks to her teammates' untimely arrival, their talk would have to wait until later. As she left his room, she hoped it wouldn't be _too_ much later.

* * *

><p>Mystique sat on the couch in the lobby, biting her nails and bouncing her foot nervously as the group wanted for Azazel to return with Mort. Angel, still in her pajamas and yawning, sat crossed-legged on the couch next to Mystique. Nick arrived in the lobby with Angel and sat on the couch's arm. Erik was pacing back and forth in front of the coffee table. He had several superficial cuts on his face and arms, and across from him, Janos kept attempting to hide his black eye with his hair. Outside of having slightly soiled clothing, Emma looked perfect as usual. The crushing silence in the lobby and the disarray of the returning team let all the mutants know that something major happened.<p>

Mystique had been the first to reach the lobby. She faltered and covered her mouth with her hand when she saw the damaged state of the team. Upon her arrival, Erik quickly embraced her, kissing Mystique on the cheek. At the touch of Erik's lips, a white-hot guilt flared up. The skin where Erik's lips touched her burned uncomfortably, and Mystique began trembling. Erik frowned and out of the corner of her eye, Mystique saw Emma cock her head. She was sure the telepath had picked up on the waves of guilt rolling off her as Mystique stood wrapped in Erik's arms.

"Mystique, don't worry, no one was badly hurt." Erik's voice was soothing. Mystique eventually pulled away, took her usual seat, and waited for the meeting to start. She kept her eyes glued to her hands, which she kept wringing nervously in her lap. She could feel Emma's eyes boring into her, but by some small miracle, she did not feel the telepath searching her mind. Mystique did not regret her night with Azazel, but she knew that if they didn't handle the situation properly, their actions could have tremendously negative consequences for the entire team. There was still too much unanswered between them. As soon as Azazel and Mort materialized, Erik launched into his debriefing. Mystique stole a glance at Azazel, but the red mutant kept his eyes locked firmly on Erik. He hadn't looked in Mystique's direction once since she left his bedroom.

"…Angel, Emma, Mystique, you get ready. Our _guests_ will be arriving within the hour. Girls, it's imperative that you follow Emma's lead. She knows the situation and only she will be able to get the information we need. Azazel and Avalanche, you come with me; we have to prepare for the upcoming mission. Toad, you stay here with Riptide as backup. Azazel will retrieve you both if needed. Everyone, make your actions count. Good luck."

Mystique blinked slowly. She hadn't been paying attention to the last few minutes of Erik's directions, but she nodded her head anyway. As she watched the men vanish, Emma turned to Angel and Mystique and snapped her fingers.

"Don't just sit there. You heard Erik; we have work to do."

* * *

><p>It had been five days since her night with Azazel, and he hadn't spoken a word to Mystique and barely acknowledged her presence during that time. To say she was confused was an understatement. True, the last five days at headquarters had seen flurry of activity at Erik's command, and Mystique only saw her teammates in passing. She wanted desperately to talk to Azazel, but each time the opportunity presented itself, it was quickly snatched away by a meeting, mission, or some other <em>damn<em> thing that prevented her from being alone with him. Azazel had been gone from headquarters when she was home, and when Azazel was home, she was away on a mission, and it seemed that the only time she was in the same room as Azazel, their other teammates were present as well. She caught Azazel looking at her two days prior during a meeting, but as soon as she met his gaze, he turned away. Mystique's expression remained stoic, but inside she ached. She wanted to reach out and touch his face and for him to look at her how he did when they were together. His seeming indifference was making her wonder if she had made a mistake giving in to him that night. Yesterday there was a brief moment after breakfast when Azazel and Mystique found themselves alone while clearing dishes from the table. Knowing they only had a few seconds of privacy, Mystique gave in to the tension of the past few days and recklessly blurted out, "I miss you."

She kept her focus on the dishes she was gathering, but when she looked over at Azazel, his eyes were closed and his hand suspended in mid-reach for a plate. He took a deep breath and his lips parted to speak, but before he could make a sound, Mort and Nick entered the kitchen. Mort started chatting with Mystique, and before she knew it, Azazel gathered up the remaining dishes, deposited them roughly in the sink and disappeared. Even though Mystique smiled pleasantly at Mort, inside she was screaming. Everyday that she couldn't speak with Azazel, everyday she had to act like everything was just _fine_ made her feel like she was going to explode.

Erik had come to her that same night, but she feigned a headache to avoid being intimate with him. She didn't want to betray him anymore than she already had, but she couldn't bear to drop the truth on him the night before he left on such an important mission. Erik would be deep undercover on this mission, and he didn't know when he'd be returning to headquarters. For once, Mystique was glad that she would have time alone. As she lay next to Erik, she mulled over their relationship. She still loved him, but it had become painfully apparent that she was no longer _in love_ with him. They were two people who shared a history and a common goal. Erik was in love with his ideology and his Brotherhood; no woman was ever going to be as important to him as mutant rights. Erik did love her, but his emotional inadequacies as a partner had become far to great for her to bear.

"_He loves you, but not in the way you want him to. And not in the way you deserve."_

The memory of Azazel's words echoed in her mind as if he was standing there speaking to her. Mystique had been called beautiful, she had been loved and desired, but she had never before felt the fire and passion that Azazel had shared with her. Azazel didn't look at her like she was a stepping-stone on a journey, but rather, like she was the destination. She knew she couldn't expect this from Erik, and frankly, after months of second guessing his thoughts and feelings, she deserved more.

* * *

><p>Mystique had learned to not feel naked in her own skin, but as she moved through the Hellfire Club Lounge as the lingerie-wearing, leggy redhead, she felt utterly exposed. The surrounding men looked at her with bulging, vulgar eyes, and she was again reminded how happy she was not to be a telepath. She batted her eyes as she walked past, careful not to spill the drinks she was carrying for her and her "date" for the evening.<p>

It was the last night before Erik's big mission, and Angel, Emma, and Mystique were entertaining military aides in a private room off the club's main lounge. They could hear the music and laughter of the club goers filtering in through the thin walls, and smell the alcohol, cigarettes, and sex floating on the air. As her date rambled on, touching her legs and sipping his drink, Mystique smiled seductively and pretended to be interested in their conversation. She occasionally prompted her date to keep him talking while Emma silently read his mind, snatching the necessary information. Angel, on the other hand, preferred a more direct approach, and was in the process of making out with the freckled, ginger-haired boy that was her date. Despite her smiles and flirting, Mystique's real thoughts centered on what she was going to do about the situation with Erik and Azazel that she presently found herself in.

When Emma was done with Mystique's date, she gave the signal – she complimented him on his military ribbons– and while he was distracted, Mystique dropped a sedative into his drink and watched it dissolve. Mystique might wear the body of a whore, but she did not sleep with the men she entertained for espionage. After the aides were sound asleep – one by Emma's suggestion, the other by the drugged drink – Mystique found herself alone with the white mutant. Angel's date had been pawned off on another girl in the club and Angel had left abruptly to look for Nick. The winged mutant never stayed around Emma longer than necessary, and Mystique suspected it had everything to do with the fact that Emma's previous lover had "replaced" her with Angel, leaving Emma in prison to wait for a rescue that would never come. Emma and Mystique sat side by side, not speaking or looking at one another for five full minutes before Mystique couldn't stand the terse silence anymore. She might be young but she was not a fool; Emma knew everything.

"Go ahead, just _say_ it already." Mystique swirled the vodka in her glass as she waited for Emma's answer. She was afraid of what Emma could very easily do if she wanted, but Mystique had grown tired of walking on eggshells. Emma regarded her with the same calculated coolness that Azazel used when he was considering a situation, and Mystique briefly wondered which mutant had learned that reproachful look from the other. Emma grabbed a lighter and Angel's discarded pack of cigarettes from the table. As the hazy smoke coiled up towards the ceiling, Emma clicked two of her nails together in an irritating noise as her eyes read Mystique like a book.

"The messes you make in your life are your own to clean-up sweetheart. I'm not your _damn_ maid."

"I didn't ask you to…"

"You couldn't even be bothered to wait one day and break it off with Erik first, could you?" Emma interrupted, tapping the ashes off her cigarette in a nearby ashtray. "I tried to warn you, I really did." She took a long drag and stared at Mystique for a while before continuing. Her honeyed voice was like an icicle piercing Mystique to the core. "If you do anything to hurt him – _anything_ – well, let's just say that what I can do will make Azazel's talents look like child's play."

"Oh _Emma_," Mystique turned to face her teammate,_"__Shut Up!_" Mystique had reached her breaking point, and something inside her snapped. She clenched her jaw and quickly stood, towering over the seated mutant and jabbing a finger in her face. Mystique's scales trembled slightly and her skin rippled between blues and flesh tones while her hair flashed shades of red, blond, and black. Thankfully, only Emma was there to see her disguise shifting out of control.

"You're _not_ Azazel's keeper. Last I checked, _he_ made _his_ own choices. I haven't forced _him_ to do a _goddamn_ thing!" Mystique hissed. She was tired of being afraid all the time. She knew the telepath could do whatever she wanted, but Mystique not going to be a victim of Emma's intimidation anymore. Between betraying Erik and Azazel's seemingly indifferent behavior, she had enough heartache right now to take on anymore. "You act like you are so perfect all the time; well, you're not. None of us are, so do me a favor and drop the _fucking_ charade. You act like my life is just some game to me! If you really are a stellar telepath, you would be able to see that the hell I am going through right now is worse than whatever you're thinking of doing to me!"

Mystique stared at Emma challengingly or a few seconds longer before dramatically tossing back the remainder of her drink. The vodka burned Mystique's throat with a heat that matched her fowl mood. As she stormed out of the lounge, Mystique saw Emma's hands shaking slightly as she cupped the cigarette to her mouth.

* * *

><p>The entire team met for a final "family dinner" before Erik's departure on his mission. The conversation was charged and the upcoming mission discussed in painful detail. Each mutant would have an important role to play, but Erik's role alone would limit his physical contact with the rest of his team. Azazel and Emma would play key roles in keeping the team in communication. As they took seats at the table, Mystique noticed that Emma was ignoring her. <em>Fine with me<em>, Mystique thought. She looked at Azazel, but he was deep in conversation with Erik.

As dinner concluded, Janos and Mystique volunteered to clean the kitchen. Erik kissed Mystique goodbye as he left the room. Her heart hardened a bit when she realized that the light brush of his lips against hers, in Erik's mind, had always been sufficient affection for a long departure. Erik told Azazel to meet him and Emma in the lobby in a few minutes, and the red mutant nodded. When Erik left the kitchen, Azazel started stacking the plates to bring to the sink. Janos was wiping down the table with his back to Mystique and talking to Angel as the winged girl exited the room. As rapid fire Spanish and laughter sounded behind her, Mystique sunk her arm into the hot soapy water and groped for the sponge to clean the glass she was holding. A clattering noise to her left let her know that Azazel had placed the dishes on the counter top. As he turned to leave, for the briefest second, his fingers trailed across the back of her neck.

"Come to me tonight." His voice was barely a whisper, but to Mystique's ears, he may as well have shouted. A heartbeat later, he vanished. Her skin tingled were his fingers had been, as if an electric bolt just shot through her body. At his touch, she dropped the glass she was holding and it shattered on the kitchen floor. Janos and Angel both jumped at the sound and laughed at Mystique for being clumsy. She joined their laughter, thankful that they had not seen the real reason she dropped the glass. Mystique hadn't yet told her friends about her night with Azazel. Until she had things figured out, he was something she wanted to keep all to herself.

* * *

><p>After everyone had gone their separate ways, Mystique clandestinely made her way to Azazel's room. Before she had knocked twice on his door, Azazel opened it as if he had been listening for her approach. His smile was immediate and grabbing Mystique's hand, he twirled her into his room and shut the door behind them. Before she could speak he was kissing her like he was a man dying of thirst and she the drink he had been longing for. He ran his hands down her body, and picking her up off the ground, he pressed her against the closed door his hips while she put her legs around his waist. Pulling back from their embrace, Azazel looked deeply into her eyes. The unmasked delight on his face made him look boyish and almost giddy.<p>

"I could smell you in my sheets for five days. Five. _Days_. And I could not see you. Do you know what it has done to me?" Mystique grinned and put her hand on his face like she had longed to do days before. His skin felt just as good as she imagined.

"You know, you could have just _washed_ your sheets."

"_Da_, well…I have better idea than laundry." With that he seized her and turning quickly, he tossed her onto his bed. She squealed and landed with a bounce before falling backward into the sheets. Azazel jumped on as well and stood over her on his hands and knees with his tail wagging behind him like an dog. He growled playfully and without warning, he grabbed the ticklish spots on her sides. He smiled as Mystique pealed into uncontrollable laughter and tried to fight him off. Eventually she gained the upper hand and pinned him to the bed, although she suspected he _let_ himself be pinned. She leaned down and pressed her mouth to his, and this time, the turmoil of the last few days melted away as she began to take off his clothing. They fell into ecstasy together once again.

* * *

><p>Later, Mystique ran her fingers through Azazel's hair and listened to his deep breaths of slumber as he lay with his head pressed against her neck. As she looked at him, she smiled and thought, <em>well…I guess we can always talk in the morning<em>.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

In the end, they never _actually_ talked.

In the weeks following their first night together, the farthest Azazel and Mystique discussed their situation was two words - _be __careful_ – and truly, they had so much to be careful about. Be careful of being caught; until Erik returned and Mystique found the right way to tell him, they agreed to keep their relationship secret. Be careful of becoming too attached; the Brotherhood walked a dangerous path, one that could end instantly for any of its members. Be careful of pregnancy; Mystique, however, never worried _too_ much about that. While studying her blood sample, Hank told her that the very nature of her mutation - her body's constant reorganization of itself at a cellular level - would make conceiving and carrying a child almost impossible for her. The news hadn't bothered her, and she had simply shrugged as Hank blushed deeply from mentioning something sex-related around her. To Mystique, motherhood had never really been an option.

As far as the team was concerned, everything was business as usual during Erik's absence. Neither Azazel nor Mystique displayed any more attention towards each other publicly than they had prior to their physical relationship, although when their teammates were distracted, the two shared mingling glances and occasional subtle smiles. Behind close doors, however, their actions were another story. Azazel simply couldn't keep his hands off her, and the way he looked at her when they were alone – really _looked_ at her – made Mystique feel _flawless_. If it were up to Azazel, the beds they shared would be in permanent states of sensuous disarray. Mystique took his physical drive for her as a compliment, one that she eagerly returned.

Life at headquarters continued to move at a rapid pace. Missions were assigned more frequently and Brotherhood members were often gone for days at a time. Erik had been on his mission for nine weeks now, posing as a government agent and attempting to gain access to plans for rumored mutant testing facility. The dangerous nature of his mission forced him to cut all ties with the Brotherhood save for his mental connection with Emma. In Erik's absence, Emma had become the _ipso __facto_ leader, and despite Mystique's indifference towards her (the two had not spoken directly since their altercation in the Hellfire Club), she had to admit that Emma was proving to be apt in this role. Lately Mystique wondered why Emma had ever taken orders from Shaw instead of leading the Hellfire team herself. She was certainly powerful enough, and she was quite certain that Emma could match Charles's abilities. She asked Azazel about this one afternoon. The red mutant merely shrugged and responded that Emma's one weakness was her constant need for approval from powerful mutants like Erik and Shaw. Mystique felt a pang of sadness at this, recalling her former need for Charles's approval. Perhaps she had more in common with Emma than she realized.

Mystique had seen Erik once during his long absence. Three weeks into his mission, Emma sent Mystique to deliver a set of cryptic files to Erik at his office. When she approached Erik's desk disguised as a secretary, Mystique was instantly struck by his appearance. He didn't even glance up from his paperwork, but when she lingered next to his desk, he looked at her and snapped in a clipped tone, "Can I _help_ you?"

At first, Mystique just stood there looking at him. She took in the gray suit and tie, his slicked back hair, his dull eyes, his entire ensemble. Erik Lensherr, the _human_. Of course, he was using a fake name here, but what wasn't fake was the unhappiness displayed clearly upon his face. She could tell instantly that he hadn't been eating or sleeping well. How meaningless this routine office life would have been for him or any of their fellow mutants, how boring, and how _trapped_? She made eye contact with him, and for the briefest second, Mystique shifted the color of her left eye. _Heterochromia __iridium_; it had been an inside joke between her and Erik back in the old days, when they laughed with Charles at his tacky pick-up lines for pretty girls in pubs. A glimmer of surprise surfaced in Erik's eyes, but he quickly recovered. As he grabbed the manila folder, he brushed his hand against hers.

"Thank you." His voice was much kinder, and had a note of longing in it.

"Your welcome…_sir_." With that, Mystique turned and walked away. Anyone looking at them would have seen nothing more than a mundane exchange. Part of her wondered if Erik watched her leave as she walked away from his desk. When she took Azazel's hand to return to headquarters, she felt the same burning guilt as the morning she first saw Erik after being with Azazel. Her teammate regarded her with a raised eyebrow, and he did not stop her when she abruptly left the lobby upon their arrival. It was one of the few times she did not seek his company, but the next evening when she appeared at his door with raw eyes, he took her into his arms without question. Theirs was a relationship that did not often require words.

During these weeks, Azazel started bringing Mystique little things when their missions separated them for stretches of time. The things he brought her were sometimes _odd_; a paper crane, a shell that sounded like the ocean when she held it to her ear, feathers from an exotic bird - never anything practical (but of course, men never think to give _practical_ gifts). Only after Mystique outright asked and Azazel quickly responded that he though she'd like them, did she realize that he was _courting_ her with equal amounts of grace and awkwardness. The seriousness with which he approached her almost made her laugh. It was easy for her to forget that he was older and from a different culture. Two weeks prior, after returning from a particularly grueling mission, she fell onto the lobby couch in exhaustion. Before she could close her eyes, Azazel appeared in a cloud of excitement and begged her to come with him. Despite her protests, he practically dragged her into the ballroom, and upon entry, he eagerly turned her to face the front wall.

"What am I looking at?" Two swords were laid out carefully at her feet. She recognized Azazel's long sword, but the slender, curved one looked new. Azazel picked up the smaller sword and offered it to her. It was long and light, and clearly Japanese in design. It had a good heft, and it was crafted perfectly for her petite hands. She cut the air with it a few times and found that the blade moved fluidly, like an extension of her arm. She pointed the blade down and studied its handle. It had an inlay design of a tiny dragon with blue scales. _Blue__ scales_…her eyes widened with realization.

"Is this for _me_?" Azazel nodded vigorously and teleported behind her. Wrapping his hand around hers, his other arm around her waist, and leaning down to rest his chin on her shoulder, he brought her sword up again and began to tell her about its finer points. Mystique didn't know much about swords, but Azazel could (and sometimes _did_) talk about them for hours. Now, with this beautiful weapon in her hand, she felt guilty that she sometimes tuned him out when he went on these tangents. She admired how his hand was large enough to cover hers completely, and how very gently he guided her hips and feet to demonstrate sparring techniques.

"Wait, did you just say '_Edo__ period__'_?" Mystique interrupted him mid-explanation and looked over her shoulder with a raised an eyebrow. He paused in his discussion and bit his lower lip slightly.

"Azazel…" Mystique's voice was a mixture of pleading and reproach, "please tell me this sword isn't from a _museum_."

"Would you be mad if it was?" Mystique clamped her free hand over her eyes and sighed. Somewhere, in some forgotten museum, some poor samurai mannequin was missing his sword.

"Didn't we just talk about taking things from museums?"

"Swords like this were not created for _show_," Azazel's tail lashed about irritably behind them while he spoke. "They were created for _use_. Creator of sword would want _you_ to use sword, not for it to sit and collect dust and be in tourist photos." Mystique looked at the sword – _her_ sword – and resigned herself to only hope that it wasn't famous enough to warrant an international search. Azazel stepped away from her and taking up his own blade, he faced Mystique in a traditional fencing stance. Despite her exhaustion, they sparred for the better part of an hour. It was the first time Mystique fenced with a real blade, and while she knew that Azazel was being easy on her, she genuinely enjoyed herself. She was pleased with how comfortable her new weapon was, but she secretly suspected that Azazel's _real_ motivation for fencing that day was less for her benefit and more as an excuse to play with this new toy. Men could be like that sometimes.

* * *

><p>"I swear to God that <em>puta<em>_ blanca_ is out to get me." Angel fluttered over the lounge couch and landed next to Mystique with a _thump_. She dropped her purse and popped the cap off a soda bottle as she complained. Mystique and Janos were sitting in the kitchen lounge with a chessboard between them. Mystique was teaching Janos how to play, and he was preternaturally good at the game. In just a few days, he had already beaten her as many times as she'd won. Their games were a welcome break from Mystique's recent schedule of non-stop aviation lessons at Erik's arrangement. She had no idea what Erik thought she was going to do with them, but she figured he had a reason for asking her (through Emma, of course) to learn to fly. The three young mutants were alone at headquarters. Emma was on mission, Mort and Nick were shopping for groceries, and Azazel was simply gone. It wasn't unusual for him to disappear without offering an explanation to Mystique in private or anyone else in public as to his whereabouts.

"What has happened?" Janos asked, moving his knight to match Mystique's last play. Of late, Janos had been making more of an effort to practice English. Both Angel and Mystique speculated that it had everything to do with a young man he had recently met.

"Emma happened, that's what." Angel took a swig of her soda and dug out her cigarettes. "That woman's got me going out every _damn_ night this week with different military assholes. I had to cancel _two_ dates this week already. _Two_!" Angel turned to face Mystique with pleading eyes. Angel and Nick were on one of their many "breaks," and Angel didn't like to be single any longer than necessary. "Mysty, can you be me and go out with this Navy jerk tonight? _Please_?"

"You know Emma won't approve of that." Mystique countered Janos's move with her bishop. She worried about the smile that appeared on his face when she finished her move.

"_Fuck_ Emma, I need a night _off_." Angel lit a cigarette. She took a deep drag and exhaled slowly. Janos helped himself to her pack and soon the lounge filled with a foggy, menthol haze. Mystique crinkled her nose at the chemical smell.

"She hates me you know. I didn't _do_ anything wrong, and yet she keeps picking on me. _Joder!_" Angel spat the last word and Janos chuckled. She played with the soda's discarded bottle top frowned. "How is it that Emma can know everything _except_ the fact that Sebastian never told _me_ about _her_?" Angel's voice paused on Shaw's name. It was always an awkward subject in the group. At first Mystique hated Angel for leaving the CIA compound that night, but she had since come to understand that the world wasn't as black and white as she once believed. Angel looked imploringly at Mystique as she flicked ashes off her cigarette.

"I believe you Angel, and I think Emma will realize that one day. She's just…got an _odd_ relationship with men, especially those she works for."

"Yeah, I am surprised she's not breathing down your neck harder because you're _boning_ Mags." Both Angel and Janos looked at their friend. The blue mutant kept her face impassive. As much as she hated keeping secrets from her friends, Mystique was going to be _damn__ sure_ that Erik found out about her and Azazel before everyone else.

"How are things with Mags being gone?"

"I'm going to talk to him when he gets back. Things are…_not_ good." The young mutants nodded and stopped questioning Mystique. They could hear it in her voice that the subject was not up for discussion at the present time. After a few minutes of silence, Angel put her hand on Mystique's shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly.

"You know I'm here if you ever need to talk, right?"

"Always."

"Mystique?" Janos looked up at Mystique and gently placed his hand over hers.

"Yes?" She smiled at her teammate. He said her name so lovingly, and there was a look of true happiness in his eyes. She was lucky to have such caring friends who would…

"_Checkmate_." Her smiled dissipated as she looked down at the chessboard. _That__ son-of-a__…_

* * *

><p>"<em>Shhh<em>, listen. Listen to this part," Azazel hushed Mystique's giggling. She was snuggled up against him as he read to her from a Russian translation of Grimm's fairy tales. She recently wheedled out of him that he loved fantasy stories. And why not? Were mutants not fantasy creatures in the minds of humans? When she started asking about his favorite tales, his response was to transport them to the National Library of Russia in Leningrad. The building was closed for the night, giving them privacy. Azazel left Mystique in a secluded alcove and reappeared moments later with a stack dusty books. They reclined on a chaise lounge clearly not made to hold two adult bodies.

"So that's how it ends? He just _dies_?" Mystique furrowed her brow when Azazel finished the story. She lying on the lower part of the chaise with her head on his stomach, her chin resting on her folded hands as she gazed up at him. Azazel put his fingers in the book to hold his place and looked down at her.

"_Da,__ devotchka_. Sometimes the hero dies." This acknowledgment made Mystique frown. She soothed the silk of Azazel's shirt under her hand.

"In the American version, he saves the princess and marries her. They live _happily __ever__ after_."

"Sometimes that happens, but happiness is not always at the end of things."

"This version is just so _sad_."

"As is life sometimes. It is all matter of perspective, I think." Azazel said this matter-of-factly, looking patiently at Mystique. He twisted the fingers of his free hand around a strand of her auburn hair as he spoke.

"Perspective?"

"_Da_. For example, in this story, princess and hero know each other for two days only, then hero tries to save her but dies. It is his love for this princess he does not even know that makes this story tragic. It is _true_ love. He loves her so much so instantly, that he would die to just see her again. Romance, _nyet_? But…" Azazel pointed a finger to gesticulate his argument. "Let us say our hero does not die. Let us say that he saves his princess and marries her, _da_? Well, now hero lives with her, gets to really know her, and finds out princess is not the perfect idea of woman he fell in love with. Maybe she snores, maybe gains lots of weight, or complains all the time, who knows? But eventually, she is no longer the perfect, ideal woman he that inspired him to fight. They are not happy all the time, like in his fantasy. Suddenly the story is just like real life, which does not always work out how we think." Azazel paused and looked at Mystique to gauge her reaction. "We like fantasy because it is _not_ real life. It helps us forget sometimes life is not always so kind, or so perfect as we think it will be. Would story really be interesting if hero lived a _normal_ life? _Nyet_."

Silence descended and Mystique thought about all the things she and Azazel had experienced in their less-than-perfect lives. She knew these Russian fairy tales were far darker than the ones she grew-up hearing in the Xavier household, and their endings weren't always pleasant, but then again, neither was real life. She reflected on the things both she and Azazel had lost along the way – love, family, and a chance for a somewhat normal life. At first it struck her as cruel to read these stories to children, but she realized now that growing up hearing these tales probably explained how Azazel was better able to handle the _real_ world – a place where sometimes, even the hero dies.

_These__ tales __reminds __me __of__…__me_, she thought wistfully. What foolish, naive part of her thought everything would be happily every after when she took Erik's hand and left Charles bleeding on the beach. She didn't regret her decision, but Erik had not been the knight in shining armor who made her life happily ever after. The more she experienced, the most realized that no one got a happily ever after, but rather, they got what they worked toward. There were no easy paths for them, but there could be paths that were worth the fight along the way. Mystique sighed and reaching up, stroked the side of Azazel's face.

"I wonder if Charles will ever think of me as his _evil_ step-sister?"

"Well, if he knew how you behave in bed…_da_, he might call you _wicked_." He snorted and she responded by playfully slapping him. He merely smirked and opened the book again, flipping though the pages and looking for the next story.

"Azazel?"

"Mmm?"

"Why did you follow Shaw?" Azazel peered over the top of the book. In the dim light of the alcove, his eyes were his brightest feature, and a look of puzzlement played upon them. Mystique had never really asked him about Shaw, but she had been thinking about her conversation with Angel and Janos earlier that day, and now that she knew Azazel better, she was not sure why he would choose to follow such a deranged man. Azazel did not answer her question straight away, but rather seemed to consider the weight of his words before speaking.

"Sebastian gave us a reason to work together and fight."

"But he was _crazy_. The vision Emma showed Charles in Russia…"

"The nuclear part was extreme, _da_," Azazel interrupted, folding the book so it was laid across his chest, his hands over its spine. "Sebastian's idea was not really to destroy all humans, but to have the humans simply fight each other, leave us alone. Let them kill each other and leave the world to mutants. Plan was not perfect, but what plan is?" He paused for a moment before continuing, seeming to tread his next statement carefully. "Did not your Charles think that if he saved the world from nuclear war, that humans would simply _accept_ mutants as good? And we saw their _acceptance_ of mutants with those missiles, _nyet_? They did not care that Charles prevented war. In military view, Charles and Shaw were no different."

Mystique frowned; Azazel had a point.

"Besides, Sebastian was…_charismatic_, _da_?" Azazel looked at Mystique, who nodded. "When Sebastian spoke, you listened. You felt he was talking to only you. I met him shortly after I started fighting. I needed someone like him, and I needed team to made difference. Sebastian was powerful and he made you want to fight for mutants, and he brought mutants together, just like Magneto…" At the mention of Erik's code name, Azazel's voice dropped. He looked down at the book with at slight frown on his face. Saying Erik's name was something the pair avoided at all costs, as if pronouncing it would invoke Erik's presence. From their discussions, Mystique knew that Azazel admired and respected Erik, and that his feelings for her did not come without a price. She placed her hand over his and squeezed reassuringly.

"I'm ending things with Magneto, when he returns from this mission." Azazel grunted in reply, but would not meet her eyes. "I'm…I'm going to wait though, just a few weeks, before I tell him about us." Mystique took a deep breath. She had thought about this carefully and realized it was the only way to break the news to Erik without fear of him lashing out. "I am not ashamed of us. I just want to break this to him easy so he's not mad. I don't want to hurt him; but I don't want to hide anymore than I have too. I spent my entire life hiding, and it's getting old." Azazel turned his gaze to hers and gently ran his fingers down the side of her face, resting them on her lips. She loved how he looked at her like she was a fairy tale princess. She pressed his fingertips to her lips in a kiss, and then smiled slyly as she took his hand away.

"What was it that you call me earlier?" She ran her hands down the hard muscle of his stomach and stopped at his belt buckle, just a few inches away from where she rested her head. Azazel quirked an eyebrow. "_Wicked_?" She purred the word, and Azazel started to correct her but stopped when her unlatched the buckle and began working on the buttons of his pants. As Mystique slid down to position herself, Azazel reclined smiling, lacing his fingers through her fiery hair and letting the book fall to floor.

* * *

><p>Not long after their library visit, Mystique found herself at the <em>Louvre<em>. Like so many places they visited, they were there at night to avoid humans. Azazel had even surprised her by appearing with a rather expensive bottle of wine. She hadn't even bothered to ask him where he got it; at this point, he had at least assured her that he _never_ took anything from someone or somewhere that couldn't afford to be without it. For a long time they sat on the floor of one of the many grand galleries talking quietly. Unlike at the library, in large museums, they had to listen carefully to avoid being caught by night watchmen. After a while, they began walking around and pointed out favorite paintings to each other, made jests at funny depictions, insinuated, flirted and in general, had a the closest thing Mystique was ever going to have to a normal _date_.

"What's wrong?" Mystique sipped her wine and looked at Azazel. It was the third time she'd seen him twitch his head sharply as if something were bothering him, almost like a fly buzzing at his ear.

"Is nothing." She raised an eyebrow at him, and he waved away her concern with a flick of his hand. "Is only Emma. She is trying to talk and I am telling her _nyet_. Tonight she is being pain."

"Is it important?"

"I think not. She contacts all of us when is important, _nyet_? And she has not talked with you just now." Mystique nodded but wasn't entirely convinced. It was one thing when they were in close proximity to Emma, but at this range, the telepath would need a strong connection to reach them. She had built that network with Azazel and Erik, but not the others. Still, the evening was pleasant, and Mystique did not want to see it cut unnecessarily short.

Yesterday had been Emma's birthday, and as a surprise, Azazel took the team (sans Erik, of course) to Sydney, Australia to watch a concert perform an ode to Emma's favorite composer. Emma was touched enough that she didn't even think to complain that she'd have to share her evening with Angel, Janos, Mort, Nick or Mystique. The evening proved festive and everyone dressed well, even Angel, whose best dress was still scandalously short.

The group sat in private balcony seats, and Mystique wore a disguise to blend in with her fellow human-looking mutants. Only Azazel remained hidden. He transported them behind the velvet curtain of their balcony and proceeded to sit on the floor hidden behind their seats. He could hear the music well enough but was not able to see the musicians for fear of exposing himself the crowd below. Halfway through the concert the symphony began _Five __Variants __of __Dives __and __Lazarus_, and excitement rose in Mystique's heart. She recognized this song, and as she turned to say so to Angel, her excitement was silenced by Azazel's expression. He looked almost moved to tears by the beauty of the notes. Mystique looked down at the crowd of humans and wondered how many of them, if they laid eyes on her or Azazel, or even Mort with his tongue or Angel with her wings unfurled, would immediately think they were _monsters_? Yet to simply enjoy a concert without discrimination…how come no one understood that this is what they wanted. In that one realization, she understood exactly why her friends would have followed Sebastian Shaw. Shaw fought for acceptance and a normal existence, if one looked at it from the right perspective. It pulled her heartstrings, and she quietly slid out of her seat, discarded her disguise, and sat on the floor across from Azazel in solidarity for the rest of the concert. He never spoke of it, but she saw the corners of his lips curve from her gesture. Afterward, even Emma briefly touched Mystique's shoulder and nodded.

"_Halte__!__ Qui__ va__ là_?" The startled outburst in French and the blinding flashlight shocked Mystique back to the present. She avoided being seen by quickly stepping into a shadow. Her heart leaped to her throat and she almost dropped her glass of wine. _Shit__…the nightwatch__!_ She had not been paying attention. Mystique quickly grasped for Azazel so he could teleport them to safety. As her hand groped air, she became alarmed. Adrenaline merged with her blood and she looked around wildly for her companion. When she saw him, he was standing halfway down the gallery in a cloud of smoke. He didn't look alarmed at all, rather he was..._smiling_? He looked downright devious as he cupped his hands around his mouth and called out to her.

"You must catch me if you want ride home!"

She swore under her breath and dropping her wine glass, she took off after him. She knew that museum guards did not carry guns for fear of damaging the artifacts, but still, she had no desire to be caught or worse, beaten with the club that they _do_ carry, now they had certainly heard Azazel's call and her glass shattering. As she chased Azazel, she could hear him laughing, and as much as she wanted to be mad, she couldn't stop the smile growing on her face. He has an odd sense of humor when it came to humans' expense, and right now the guards trailing her had no idea they were getting themselves into.

As she rounded the gallery corner, Mystique's bare feet slipped on the polished floor. She gracefully regained her balance and ran down the corridor. As she turned into another gallery, she saw her prize at the end: Azazel, casually waiting for her and grinning.

"Don't _do_ that!" She grabbed his arm firmly, panting to catch her breath.

"Leave the wine behind?" He held up the half-drunk bottle with a look of mock seriousness on his face. "_Nyet!_ Never would I do this." He held his expression for a second before a smile pulled the left side of his mouth into a lopsided grin. Mystique giggled.

The guards appeared and their flashlights skimmed the walls and floor. The two mutants escaped into a secondary gallery just ahead of the guards. As they ran, Azazel yelled loudly, "_attrapez-moi si vous pouvez_!" He snickered at the little game he was having with these men. Mystique ran next to him, pushing herself to keep up with his long strides and demanded, "you speak French?"

"_Oui_. But my accent is terrible."

"You know, for someone who doesn't talk much, you sure the _hell_ speak enough languages." He only smiled in acknowledgment, and they came to a dead end in their new gallery. He looked around calculatingly for a moment before turning and facing the front way they had entered. Mystique laced her arm through his and waited for them to disappear. He had a look of excitement on his face.

"Azazel, let's go. _Now_." Azazel merely smirked at the suggestion and pulled Mystique tighter to him. He was planning something and she knew he wanted to make a quick getaway. The guards crashed into the gallery, their lights searching for the intruders.

"_N'êtes-vous pas effrayé du diable_?" Azazel smiled triumphantly and the lights finally landed on the mutants. The guards came to a skidding halt as they saw the red and blue figures standing before them. Azazel called out again, this time in a menacing tone, and one of the guards fainted. It was hard for Mystique to suppress her smile.

"What did you tell them?"

"That I am the devil." Azazel rarely called attention to his physical mutation, and this use of it in the most horrible stereotype struck Mystique as _very_ funny. He took a dramatic step towards the remaining guards with his arms out wide, and they fled in terror. By this time, both mutants were laughing heartily. The couple reappeared seconds later in Mystique's bedroom. Azazel placed the wine bottle on the adjacent dresser and wiped tears of laughter from his face.

"Did you see? Did you see the look on their faces?" His smile was dazzling against his dark skin.

"Brilliant!" Mystique pulled herself to him and Azazel wrapped his arms around her. Catching her breath, she stood on her toes and he came down to meet her lips. Their kiss was deep and passionate. Their hearts still beat rapidly from the chase, and she felt so safe in his arms, as if Azazel was her shield from all that was bad in the world.

"_Ahem_."

Both mutants became ridged at the sound of the throat clearing. Mystique jumped back from Azazel's embrace and turned in the direction of the noise. What she saw make her blood turn to ice.

Sitting on her bed with his arms tightly crossed, was Erik.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Mystique was afraid of very few things. She was not afraid of the dark or small, crowded places. She did not fear flying, the diseases of rodents, or the bite and sting of insects that inspired cold sweats and nightmares in so many people. She faced starvation, bitter weather, and the threat of rapists and robbers more often then she liked to admit as a child. There were memories buried deep inside her, before she stumbled into Charles's life, that had thought the warm embrace of death would have been welcomed on the coldest winter nights on the street. Many who met Mystique called her _brave_, but she scoffed at the sentiment. There was nothing brave about her former life. She had been doing only what anyone else would have - she had been _surviving_. There was no room in her heart for fear, save for the handful of things that truly terrified her.

Right now, one of those things was Erik.

She was not so much afraid _of_ Erik as what Erik could _do_, and right now, she worried mostly about what Erik could do to Azazel. _Must__ be__ love,_ the fleeting thought drifted across her mind_,__ because__ I __am __not __thinking __of __myself_. Mystique doubted that Erik would go after her, but the steely look in his eyes confirmed that Azazel was fair game for his wrath. Erik's anger was a wild, wounded animal, and from the few times she saw his unbridled fury, his abilities _terrified_ her. This was a man whose rage could make a submarine fly next to a plane, who could make buildings tremble simply by cracking his knuckles. Erik was constantly balanced on a razor's edge between rage and serenity, and at this moment, Mystique very well may have shoved him _over_ that line. What scared her the most, however, was the utterly cool, controlled expression on Erik's face. She had no idea what thoughts were raging behind his storm blue eyes as he sat facing the star-crossed lovers.

Once the initial shock subsided, Mystique quickly inventoried her increasingly tense predicament. In the few seconds it took to organize her mind, it dawned on her just much the various men in her life had influenced her. She made a mental note of everything in the room that contained metal; this was a reflex that she had picked-up from living with Erik, the man who could kill simply with the change one carried in their pocket. Mystique's body tensed for a fight, and she was instantly aware of her entire surroundings. This she learned from training with Azazel, the man who could wink in and out of existence before she had time to draw one breath. Lastly, she knew she had to get Erik to calm his mind. Charles's influence, in so many ways, remained like a stain on her deeper than the indigo shade of her skin. _Think __Mystique, __think!_

"Azazel, leave us." Mystique's voice was controlled and quiet. She had jumped away from Azazel the instant she heard Erik clear his throat, but the damage had been done. Erik had seen everything. She did not look at Azazel when she spoke these words to him, but rather, Mystique held Erik's gaze steady. If Erik was going to strike, he'd strike at Azazel first. She had a slim chance of bringing Erik back to serenity if Azazel left the room completely; his presence would only push Erik closer towards rage. From the corner of her eye, she saw the red mutant hesitate, tense with indecision. Thoughts raced through her head and for once, she deeply wished she had Emma's telepathic powers. _Please,__ leave. __Now __is __not __the __time __to __be __a __hero_, she thought, sucking in her breath. _Heroes __can __die __too._

"Leave us. _Now_." The clipped tone of her voice left no room for argument. This time, relief flooded her veins when tendrils of red and black smoke elegantly marked the void next to her. Mystique swallowed hard.

"I am going to sit down now." Mystique spoke to Erik with the same tone that one used if one encountered a frightened, feral animal. Her movements were slow and careful as she pulled out the chair to her vanity and sat facing Erik. She never once broke eye contact with Erik, and he continued to stare at her, his hands now folded in his lap and his face remaining terrifyingly unreadable. From the instant Mystique realized that Erik was in the room, she expected explosive, sensational violence; she at least expected the hallow vibration of metal like the day Erik caught her returning from the Xavier mansion. An eerie silence had descended instead, broken only the pounding of blood in Mystique's ears and Erik's composed breathing. After a few moments, Erik finally spoke, his voice cutting between the two mutants like a knife.

"I came here to surprise you." His words were as calm as his expression. "Looks like _you_ surprised _me_ instead." He narrowed his eyes accusingly. Mystique took a deep breath and carefully chose her response.

"I never meant for you to find out like this. I never meant to hurt you."

"You have interesting ideas of what _hurts_ people, my dear." His sarcasm was acidic, and Mystique dropped her gaze and wrung her hands nervously in her lap.

"How long as _this_ been going on?" Erik crossed his arms again, and Mystique got distinct the feeling he was attempting to physically retrain his own heart.

"Not long."

"Then I expect it to _stop_."

Mystique's face snapped up and she stared at her former lover. A sudden anger boiled inside her, like pressure brewing in volcano. This was not how she planned to tell Erik, but ending her courtship with Azazel was not something she wanted, especially not at someone else's _command_. Erik couldn't just leave her again and again and expect that she'd just be _happy_ to wait for him and take him back each and every time. _Who__ does __he __think __he __is_? He was her _leader_, not her _owner_. Azazel wasn't perfect, but he never made her feel like _second choice_. Her golden eyes shown defiantly as she answered.

"_No_."

"I…_No_?" Erik sounded more surprised than angry at Mystique's challenge. They had fought before, but never had she so deftly defied him.

"No Erik. I will _not_. This," she motioned to the space between she and Erik, implying their relationship, "is _not_ working, and you _know_ it." Erik opened his mouth but Mystique help up her hand to silence him. "I am not saying that what I did was acceptable, but really Erik, when was the last time you were _happy_? Honestly, truly _happy_ with our – _relationship_ – if we can even call it that?" Erik held her gaze steady for a moment longer before looking away, frowning.

"Mystique, you _know_ how I feel about you…"

"Do I? Do _you_ Erik? Do you know how to even define _us_?" Mystique erupted, the words pouring from her lips like flames spouting from a raging fire. She jumped up from her seat, propelled by the passion of her vindication. "Did you think about me nonstop when we were apart? Have you ever admitted to anyone – including _me_ – that I am anything more than _just_ your solider? For the last few months, you've _hurt_ me a great deal. Every time you left on mission without saying goodbye, every night I waited up for you and you never came, every time you made decisions for me without taking into consideration how I felt about them. You've treated me no different than anyone else in the Brotherhood, but somehow I am supposedly _yours_ and _yours_ alone? It seemed like I was yours when you had time for me. It's not _fair_! It's not fair to me, and it's not fair to you. Furthermore…"

"I agree."

"You never…wait, _what_?" Mystique stood with her hand limp in the air, her anger stalled by sudden surprise. Erik had spoken in a voice just barely above a whisper, and looked at her with strained eyes. There was a hint of something else – perhaps even pity – on his face.

"I know that you've been unhappy. I saw it on your face everyday." Erik sighed and rubbed his eyes. Mystique could see now that he was trying hard not to become emotional. She suddenly burned with guilt for lashing out at him.

"Mystique, I didn't know _what_ to do. I've never been in a situation like this, with you…after my parents died, I've never had anyone _significant_ in my life longer than a few weeks. What you want, what I want…I didn't know how to make them work together. I certainly didn't expect you'd do something like _this_," Erik flicked his wrist angrily toward the dresser where he witnessed Mystique's infidelity, "but here we are." He looked at Mystique for a long time before continuing.

"When we left Charles, I promised I would look after you, and take care of you so you wouldn't get hurt. You have no idea how responsible I've felt for you since Cuba. If anything happened to you, I'd never forgive myself." Erik swallowed thickly and turned his eyes back to his hands in his lap. He spoke quietly, in a defeated tone. "And it turns out I was the one hurting you all this time."

"Oh Erik…" She felt awkward, and unsure of how to feel about his admission. She felt ashamed that she hadn't brought up any of her feelings to him before. She should have realized with his mercenary past and loss of family, that he wouldn't know how to handle a relationship. She expected too much from him; Erik was no fairytale knight, and this was no far away kingdom. They had always been just two people with broken pasts trying to make the best future they could for their own people.

"No, it's my fault you've been unhappy. I haven't lived up to any promises I've made, to you or anyone else on this _damn_ team. I've had a lot of time to think about this during my last mission, and those broken promises end _now_." He balled one hand into a fist and punched it into his palm. Mystique jumped at the sound of skin striking skin.

"But…" Erik looked calculating at Mystique. "What to do about _this_?" She raised an eyebrow warily at Erik. He sighed, ran his hand through his hair, then dragged it down his face. He contemplated Mystique through his spread fingers.

"Why didn't you just talk to me?" His voice broke slightly and he brought his hand back to his lap. "Why did you go behind my back? Why couldn't you just _tell_ me how you felt?"

"I wanted to, and I tried to, but Erik…I didn't know how." Mystique thought about all the nights she laid in bed with Erik, all the words and thoughts that swirled in her mind like intangible mist. She could never find just the right way to tell him, and whenever she did start to bring it up, the topic was always shifted or abandoned.

"I could ask _him_ to leave." Mystique inhaled sharply at Erik's suggestion. Now that the threat of death seemed to be averted, she worried that Erik would force Azazel off the team. She didn't want to lose either Azazel or the Brotherhood; since leaving Charles, she needed both. "However," Erik continued, "I think Emma would leave with him, and perhaps even Janos, and I need them on my side." Erik studied Mystique for a long time. She knew Erik well enough to know the question he was afraid to ask. _He__ wants __to__ know __if __I__ would __leave __with__ Azazel_. _Would I_? Mystique frowned when she realized she didn't know the answer herself.

"Don't ask me to choose, Erik." He swallowed hard and nodded. The thought that she would possibly leave – his last link to the man who saved his life - was sobering enough.

"Maybe I should go, then." Erik contemplated the decision as if Mystique was no longer in the room. "Am I even cut out for _this_? Charles was the leader, not me, and the Brotherhood did fine with Emma in charge these past few weeks."

"Don't say that Erik," Mystique spoke pleadingly. She hated when he sold his abilities short. "You're a _great_ leader. Everyone respects you, and…"

"_Respects_?" Erik spat the word and glared at Mystique. For the first time in their conversation, she heard the distinct vibration of metal in her room. "_Respects_? That's what you call it when one of my soldiers _fucks_ you behind my back for months? That's _respect_?" The hum grew in intensity, mirroring the wild look creeping into Erik's eyes.

"Erik, I started it." She looked directly at him as she spoke, her golden eyes challenging. She would be damned if he blamed Azazel for this entire situation. "I started it. _I_ kissed him, he _pushed_ me away, but _I_ pursued him." She thought back to the afternoon in the meadow when she first kissed Azazel. After all they experienced, it seemed like it happened in another time, another life. "If you are looking to blame someone, blame _me_. Azazel respects you, and it's _killed_ him every day that we were doing this before I had a chance to discuss this whole _fucked-up_ situation with you." Erik looked at Mystique with a mixture of rage, pity, and confusion. The hum from the metal seemed to subside, but did not disappear completely.

"If you had to choose Erik, between the Brotherhood and me, what would you choose?" Now it was Erik's turn to look away unsure. She knew the answer to that question. Erik would protect her, but he would not choose her over the battle he had been fighting since he was a young boy.

"This _relationship_ isn't what I want Erik, and I don't think it's what you want either. I don't want to be anyone's part-time lover." Mystique walked over to Erik and sat down next to him on the bed. He would not face her. Cautiously, she laid her hand over his. He did not acknowledge her touch, but he didn't pull away either. The metal stopped vibrating as she sat next to him. She took that as a good sign, and she chose her next words carefully. The wild animal was still present, and it still needed to be soothed.

"I want to remain in the Brotherhood, Erik. I _believe_ in the Brotherhood, and I believe in _you_. As long as you'll have me as your solider, I'll never walk away. But I will not be yours anymore. It's just not fair to either of us, and you know this." Erik digested her words in silence. After a while, he squeezed Mystique's hand. She felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders.

"I'm not pleased with this…_situation_, Mystique. I'm not going pretend it didn't happen."

"I know." She quickly added, "Please understand that I….we never wanted to hurt you."

"I have to think over this." Erik stood, and glanced down at Mystique. There was a bit of pleading in his expression.

"Don't…talk anyone else about this until I've spoken to you. _Both_ of you." Mystique nodded. Frankly, she didn't want to talk about this; she wished all the drama and heartache could just go away. Erik took one last, long look at her. As she watched him leave, somehow she knew it would be the last time she would ever see him in her personal quarters.

As her door closed, Mystique collapsed on her bed. She held herself together long enough to face Erik, but now, in the privacy of her room, she let go. Her entire body shook from residual feelings of panic. _What __if__…__?_ A thought raced through her mind and she frowned, and then bolted upright as a sudden fear sprang-up inside her. _What __if __Erik __hadn__'__t __gone __to __his __own __room;__ what __if __he__ had__ gone __to __find __Azazel?_ Erik hadn't said he where he was going when he left a few minutes ago, and she knew him well enough to know that he was still seething from what he had witnessed. Mystique sprang from her bed, and without bothering to close the door, she dashed down the hallway to the third floor stairway. As she ran around the corner, she collided with Angel and Nick as they walked towards Angel's room.

"Mysty, what the _hell_?" Her teammate demanded as she stood up, fixing her dress. Nick didn't fall, and after helping Angel up, he reluctantly extended a hand to help Mystique. _He__ must __be __trying __to __get __back __on __Angel__'__s __good __side_, Mystique thought as she accepted Nick's help. Once on her feet, she took off running again.

"Well, have a _good_ night!" Angel yelled as Mystique retreated. The young mutant was clearly annoyed that her friend did not explain herself. Mystique did not stop running until she was upon Azazel's door. She hadn't seen Erik on her way, and she didn't anything metal humming. This she took as a good sign. Mystique knocked frantically on the door.

"Azazel, it's me, _please_ open the door!" Mystique begged in low voice. No one else was around to hear her, but somehow whispering seemed like the safest thing to do. Thankfully, the door unlocked and swung open after Mystique's first plea.

"Oh thank _God_, Aza…_Emma_?" Mystique stood face-to-face with the white mutant as she dominated Azazel's doorway. Emma was dressed in a sheer, shimmery robe that left little to the imagination, and her disheveled hair and stifled yawn clearly pointed to the fact that she had just gotten _out_ of bed. Mystique looked at her with wide eyes like a deer hypnotized by headlights, her mouth open but no words coming out. There was no reason for Emma to be dressed like _this_ and _sleeping_ in Azazel's room, _unless_…

"Looking for someone, _darling_?" Emma smirked and stretched dramatically, seeming to relish the panic and confusion radiating from the young mutant. Mystique continued to stare, dumbfounded as to why Emma would be in her lover's room, and she felt a cold knot form in her stomach at the possible explanations. Emma continued to smile devilishly at Mystique and loudly rap her manicured fingernails on Azazel's door frame, waiting for an answer she knew she wouldn't receive. Mystique knew that Emma hadn't forgiven her for lashing out at her in the Hellfire Club lounge, but still…would Emma really resort to _this_? As Mystique's lip started to tremble, Emma rolled her eyes in annoyance.

"Oh, _calm_ down. You really think I'm interested in making this situation any _more_ dramatic than you have already? _Really_." Emma crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. After a few more seconds of silence, Emma sighed. Whatever her game was, it had lost its amusement.

"Azazel is in my room." Unable to find her voice, Mystique meekly nodded and turned away. After a few paces, she heard Azazel's door slam behind her.

_Next __time __he __ignores __me,__ tell __him__ that __he__'__d __better __damn __well __not_ if _he__ knows __what__'__s__ good__ for __him._ Emma's warning echoed in Mystique's mind, and Mystique suddenly realized that that Emma had been trying to tell them about Erik's return while they were at the museum earlier that evening. Mystique approached Emma's door at the hallway's end. She put her hand on the knob and turned, knowing instinctively that it would be unlocked. Inside, the white mutant's room was blindingly bright. The furniture and trappings of Emma's private quarters were not the hand-me-downs and thrift-store finds that adorned Mystique and Angel's rooms, nor where they the traditional, classic pieces favored by the Brotherhood's male members. Emma's belongings were trendy and chic, almost all the furniture and fabrics exclusively in shades of white with silver accents. The entire atmosphere was luxurious and rich, fit for a queen. Azazel was sitting on the edge of the bed. He had removed his jacket, and his existence was a violent splash of color against the snowfall backdrop.

Mystique's first thought was that Azazel looked utterly ridiculous and out of place surrounded by the delicate trappings of Emma's domain. When he saw Mystique, he jumped up and turned to her with such haste that his tail inelegantly swept everything off the nearby nightstand. A framed picture crashed the floor, glass shattering upon contact. Azazel grimaced and quickly turned look at the mess he made, only to knock Emma's bed pillow clear across the room with a second sweep. As he spun around to catch one of the pillows, Mystique heard the distinct sound of fabric ripping as the spade of his tail slashed through the bed's canopy. Before he could move again, Mystique cried out, "Azazel, just stand _still_!"

If she hadn't been so relieved to see him unharmed, she would have found Azazel's uncharacteristic clumsiness charming. When on a mission, Azazel was always a smooth, sleek assassin, but in matters of the heart, he had his moments of tripping over his own feet. Azazel teleported away from the ruined corner of the room and reappeared inches from Mystique. Without hesitation, he pulled her to him fiercely. For a few moments of relief, Mystique closed her eyes, curled her fingers around the collar of Azazel's shirt and simply let her body be squeezed. When Azazel finally released her, he stepped back and slid his hands to her shoulders and looked searchingly at her face, as if checking her for injuries after a mission. Satisfied that she was not physically harmed, Azazel sighed and looked deep into her eyes. Mystique couldn't help but notice that he kept a stoic face, but his pale eyes revealed far more than he meant to show.

"I'm Ok." Mystique offered a weak smile and soothed his shirt with her hand. "We just talked, that's all." Azazel nodded and put his hand over hers, squeezing it tightly. He suddenly looked unsure and a touch nervous, just like the first time she kissed him in the meadow. Mystique raised an eyebrow at her teammate. He looked down towards his feet.

"I did not wish to leave you."

"I know. I'm sorry I had to ask that of you, but it was safer that way…for Erik." At this, she saw Azazel's lip twitch upward and he snorted lightly in amusement. Truthfully, Mystique would have a hard time saying which of the two dominant men would win a fight.

"So," his voice was casual, but she could hear the seriousness behind it. "Are you now…_with_ him?"

"No. I made it very clear that I Erik and I are over." Azazel's face snapped up when Mystique responded, and he looked at her hard, as if trying to discern if she was telling the truth. Mystique took a deep breath and reiterated her conversation with Erik. As she spoke, Azazel's face remained passive but she noticed his tail began wagging slowly behind him like a dog's. When she finished talking, Azazel continued to look calmly at her for a few seconds, then without warning, pulled her to him and kissed her intensely. When their lips parted, Azazel dropped his arms to lightly encircle her waist.

"Why did you and Emma switch rooms?" Mystique was still a bit shaken at finding a scantily clad Emma in Azazel's room. What she wanted to ask was, _why__ was __Emma __dressed __like __a __hooker __and __sleeping __in __your __bed_, but she knew that would be disrespectful. She trusted Azazel, and in all honesty, Emma dressed like a high-priced whore on a normal day. She was sure that Emma had been using the situation advantageously to get back at Mystique.

"Was Emma's idea." After a few seconds of silence, Azazel seemed to realize that his response was not a sufficient explanation. The red mutant shrugged. "When I left you, Emma contacted me. She knew what happened; she could feel the emotions of everyone, and she knew there was good chance Magneto wanted fight. If he wanted me, he would look to my room. Emma suggested I stay here. She offered to talk to Magneto if he arrived at my door, and send you to me when you did." Mystique bit her lip. It was a good plan. If anyone could really calm Erik's mind, it would have been Emma; Erik rarely wore his helmet nowadays. Mystique briefly wondered once again about Azazel and Emma's friendship. Emma seemed devoted to Azazel, and Mystique felt there was more to their story than bonding over telepathic powers. Azazel often left questions about Emma unanswered, and he rarely spoke about their years together in the Hellfire Club. The only concrete truth Mystique knew was that Emma and Azazel had never been lovers; about that, he had been adamant.

"Emma is a good friend."

"_Da_, she is good to me." Azazel cupped Mystique's face in one hand. He stroked her cheek lightly with his thumb.

"What happens now?" Azazel's question could have easily been applied to so many areas of their lives. Mystique shrugged. She had no idea what tomorrow would bring, but the fact that they had survived tonight seemed like a small miracle in itself. It seemed selfish to ask for another at this point.

"I dunno. I guess we'll just have to wait and see."

This was a good enough answer for Azazel. They embraced again, and after a while, Mystique suggested they find somewhere else to stay for the night. The thought of sleeping in Emma's room bothered her, and she doubted that Emma would be pleased if she and Azazel even _thought_ about using her bed for anything other than sleeping. Before they departed, they fixed the items Azazel accidentally disturbed in his rush to Mystique. Azazel had left to find a broom while Mystique knelt on the floor and carefully brushed shards of glass off the once framed photograph. She picked-up the image to look at it closer. It wasn't actually photograph, but rather a large postcard of a famous Impressionist painting. She turned the card over and studied the flowing penmanship on the other side. When she saw the signature, her eyes widened.

"…_Love,__ Sebastian._"

There were watermarks marring the ink in several places, and it took Mystique a moment to realize that these stains were the perfect shape and size to be teardrops.

Suddenly, the card was snatched from her hand. Azazel loomed over her, a broom in one hand and the postcard gripped firmly in his other. She had been too busy reading the love note to notice Azazel's return. He glanced at the postcard and frowned. Before Mystique could say anything, he opened the nightstand drawer, thrust the postcard inside, and closed it roughly. He handed Mystique the broom and dustpan, and without word, he began to throw Emma's pillows back on her bed. Mystique took the hint and did not ask about the postcard.

When she took Azazel's hand to leave, Mystique wondered what it would be like to look inside Emma's mind. She wondered, with a slight shiver, if that was something she should be afraid of.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: Sorry it took me longer than usual to update. School's been crazy since mid-October, and I do not like to rush any of my chapters. This particular chapter was critical to get just right, so I hope you'll forgive me for the delay.<br>_

_I've got some great stuff coming up for you in the next few chapters, so keep reading and as always, what author doesn't love reviews? :) _


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Staggering stiff-limbed through her doorway, Mystique collapsed backwards on her bed, draping her arm over her eyes to block out the florescent glow of her bedroom light. She ached _everywhere_. The last four days had been one of the most demanding missions she had ever completed. The blue girl couldn't remember the last time she had changed into so many _different_ people, and this mission required her to actually _sleep_ at the military compound she was infiltrating. Sleeping in disguise was possible for the shapeshifter, but it required a great deal of concentration. Mystique felt like she hadn't slept at _all_ on her mission for fear of exposing herself. Since embracing her true skin, Mystique no longer needed to sleep in disguise, and she frowned at the realization that she'd have to practice this skill once again. At least her mission was successful; both Erik and Emma were quite pleased with the files and other information she was able to secure. Right now, however, none of this mattered to the blue girl. All that mattered was that she was _finally_ home, and _finally_ allowed time to properly rest. Just as sleep was folding its warm arms around her, Mystique's peace was interrupted by the familiar sound of air displacing at the foot of her bed.

"I was _looking_ for you." There was an accusatory tone in Azazel's voice. Mystique didn't even bother to move her arm or open her eyes when she answered.

"Well, you found me. _Congratulations_." After a terse silence, Mystique could practically _feel_ the look of irritation on his face. She sighed audibly and slid the crook of her arm up and peered out at Azazel from the shadow of her elbow. Just as she imagined, he was standing at the end of her bed facing her, his arms stiffly crossed, a slight scowl on his face, and his tail lashing back and forth. Normally his ice-colored eyes brightened when they met her golden ones, but right now, they were uncharacteristically hard and distant. Mystique knew it was the exhaustion affecting her, but it suddenly irked her that Azazel no longer bothered to knock on her door; rather, he simply appeared in her room whenever he wished.

"Have you ever heard of _knocking_?" Azazel's eyes widened slightly at her snarky remark, but then quickly narrowed as he stared at her for a few seconds longer before vanishing. Mystique swore under her breath and put the palms of her hands over her eyes as a loud, aggressive pounding began on her door. She dragged her hands down so she was looking at the door through her fingers.

"Who is…?" Before she could finish her sarcastic question, Azazel reappeared in the exact same spot at the foot of her bed. His scowl was set harder and his arms were now crossed tight enough that Mystique was sure he was going to pop a button off his jacket. Clearly, he did not find her request _amusing_.

"Azazel_,__what_?"

"You said you would meet me when you returned. You did _not_."

"We _just_ got back ten minutes ago." Azazel scoffed lightly at the 'we' part of her explanation. Lately anytime Mystique mentioned Erik (particularly, anytime she had been _alone_ with Erik), Azazel adopted a sour attitude. Mystique closed her eyes again, put her hand to the bridge of her nose, and mentally counted backwards from 10 to calm her mind. She was growing tired of this sulky, childlike behavior, even if she too had began to suspect that her and Azazel's endlessly incompatible schedules were a passive-aggressive move on Erik's behalf. She wouldn't put it past him to quietly arrange for her and Azazel to be assigned opposing shifts. When she felt calm, she faced her teammate again.

"_Jesus_, Azazel. All I wanted to do was rest for _five __minutes_ before seeing you. _Five_. _Minutes_. Is that _alright_ with you, or do I need to ask your _permission_ first?" Azazel held her gaze steady for a few seconds before breaking eye contact and turning his gaze to the floor. He loosened his crossed arms and began twisting one of his cuff links, his tail now drooping low enough that it brushed the carpet. The challenging look on his face had turned to one of guilt, and Mystique's anger was suddenly directed internally for lashing out at him. The pair had not been able to meet privately for over a week, and she was just as frustrated as he was. She sighed again, this time in resignation.

"_Hey_," her voice was softer and apologetic, although she did not apologize. She gently patted the mattress next to where she lay. "Come here you."

She saw Azazel's expression perk up slightly from where he stood. A second later, he appeared next to Mystique on the bed, sitting with his back against the headboard. He put his arms around her and Mystique snuggled into his embrace, laying her head on his chest. She absentmindedly ran her fingers across his jacket's buttons while he soothed her hair, his chin resting on the top of her head. Her own breath deepened as she listened to the steady rise and fall of Azazel's. She loved the way he smelled; his scent was rich and earthy, a mixture of wood smoke, laundry soap, and incense. Her eyes fluttered closed and she drank in the serenity of the moment.

* * *

><p>Six weeks had passed since the lovers' surprise discovery by Erik, and during this time, Mystique felt that she barely had a moment to catch her breath. Erik had returned from his prolonged mission with a new vision for them team, and the Brotherhood's activities increased almost exponentially. It seemed like every day there was a new assignment for each member, and the headquarters was in constant flux. Three days following his confrontation with Mystique, Erik requested both her and Azazel to meet with him in private. Erik outright glared at Azazel, his jaw set hard and his breath forceful, when the red mutant appeared in Erik's sitting room. Mystique and Azazel were careful to avoid any physical interaction while in Erik's presence, although Erik had little to say to the pair except that he expected that their <em>interactions<em> – he refused to say _relationship_ – would not affect the Brotherhood's missions or goals in any way. Azazel listened attentively, nodding periodically in agreement as Erik lectured. Ever since their discovery, Azazel had seemed on edge around Erik, as if he was waiting for something very _bad_ to happen to either himself or Mystique. Even though the two men didn't always see eye-to-eye, Mystique knew that Azazel respected Erik, and that the red mutant was eager to address the situation and put the awkwardness behind them. Once the pair departed Erik's company, Azazel offered Mystique his arm. As her fingers closed around his sleeve, she was momentarily confused as to why she did not feel the familiar stiffness of his concealed dagger. Her eyes widened in surprise when she glanced at Azazel and realized that he was no longer wearing _metal_ buttons on his jacket. Azazel would not meet her gaze, and never acknowledged her observations. Mystique shivered at the flood of "_what __ifs_" that poured through her mind that could have been the outcome of Erik's anger. Despite Erik's residual feelings, in all honesty, the mutants were _lucky_ that Erik was so _understanding_ about the trio's complicated situation; a lesser man would have reacted with immediate violence. Mystique knew that Erik cared about her happiness, even if he wasn't the man to give it to her.

Her teammates took the news of the dissolution of her and Erik's relationship – if they ever even recognized it as such - and beginning of her relationship with Azazel with far more grace, although there was still an awkward adjustment period. The morning following their private meeting with Erik, Mystique and Azazel agreed to gradually introduce their relationship to the Brotherhood. As she walked through the kitchen doorway, Mystique halted in her tracks. Four sets of eyes were instantly upon her - Angel, Nick, Mort, and Janos – and the energetic chatter that she heard from the hallway had lapsed into a stunned silence. Even their act of eating had stopped; both Mort and Janos had spoons frozen in mid-air, milk sopping back down onto their cereal as they gaped at Mystique. Only Emma was acting her usual self, sitting at the head of the table, reading the daily paper and tearing off small pieces of her bagel without looking. The blue mutant raised an eyebrow at her teammates' odd behavior.

"What?" She forced the tone of her voice to be casual, but the sound came across like a thunderclap in the silence, prompting the onlookers back into animation. Among a series of muttered '_nothings_,' Mystique quirked an eyebrow and walked to the counter to pour a bowl of cereal. She could feel the eyes watching her and she moved quickly to take her usual spot at the table. When she sat, the men suddenly became _very_ interested in their cereal bowls. Only Angel ignored her food and continued to stare at Mystique as if she didn't believe what she was seeing. Now utterly confused and concerned, Mystique parted her lips to speak, but before she had a chance, Emma addressed the blue mutant without even so much as looking up from her paper.

"Will _Azazel_ be joining us this morning?" Emma said his name with deliberate infliction, implying a connection between the two colored mutants.

"How should I know?" Mystique's response was quick, and judging by the surprise on Janos and Angel's faces, perhaps a bit too quick. Mystique's face grew hot, but she stood her ground. She wasn't in the mood for Emma's games. She aggressively dug her spoon in her cereal bowl. "You're the telepath; you tell _us_." Emma carefully folded her newspaper and turning to face Mystique, offered her an absolutely poisonous smile.

"Sorry _darling_; I just assumed that since you _woke-up__ next __to __him_ this morning, you'd be the best person to ask if he would be joining us for breakfast." Mystique started choking and shot a panicked looked at Emma. The white mutant titled her head and drank in Mystique's horrified reaction for a few seconds before shrugging and cracking her newspaper back open. "Silly me." Mystique glanced around the table and her eyes went wide with realization. _They __knew.__ They __all__ knew __about__ Erik, __Azazel,__ and __me_. Emma had known the entire time, of course, but she was playing ignorant for the group.

Angel got up from the table and slammed her bowl on the counter next to the sink. She stormed out of the room without even glancing in Mystique's direction. Mort excused himself and hurried after Angel, stopping for a split-second in the doorway to toss a pitying look in Mystique's direction. The Brotherhood was the closest thing Mort ever had to a family, he hated when team members fought with each other. Mystique could hear the pair's voices fading as they traveled down the hallway away from the kitchen. Mystique had no idea what just happened, and looked forlorn in the direction of her friends' departure. She jumped slightly when she felt a hand brush against hers. Janos was leaning towards her over the table.

"Erik talked to us yesterday, when you were not here." Janos smiled meekly at her. "We know." Mystique bit her lip and wondered what Erik's _perspective_ on the situation had been. Janos sat back and shot a nasty look at Emma. "You did not have to tell Mystique like that." Emma's cerulean eyes bore into his is soft topaz ones from over the top of her paper.

"You're right. I _didn__'__t_." Emma smiled wickedly and turned back to her reading, letting everyone clearly know that there was nothing they could do about the way she chose to act. Nick cleared his throat, grabbing Mystique's attention.

"Angel's mad that you didn't tell her." Mystique raised her eyebrow at Nick. The Cretan boy shrugged. "You know…about you and your new, uh, _boyfriend_, I guess? I mean, that's what he is now, right?" Mystique didn't know how to answer. She and Azazel never really discussed what they were. She nodded for lack of a better explanation. "Anyways," Nick continued, "Angel thought that you should have told her sooner." He smiled awkwardly at Mystique before turning to Janos and nudged Janos with his elbow. "Meh, _women_. Am I right?" Janos looked at Nick and chewed his cereal thoughtfully for a few seconds before shrugging casually.

"I would not know."

"Oh yeah," Nick laughed nervously, "right. Because you're…" Janos raised an eyebrow at Nick, waiting for him to finish the sentence. The young mutant swallowed. "_Right_." Nick turned back to his cereal with renewed interest and Janos snickered. A moment later, Azazel walked through the kitchen doorway. Now it was his turn to stop in his tracks when four sets of eyes were on him. He looked at each team member quickly and then looked over himself as if checking for missing clothing. Satisfied that everything was in place, the red mutant quirked an eyebrow.

"_What_?"

Mystique left her breakfast unfinished at the table. As she exited the room, she shot Azazel a look of warning. For a split second, he made to follow her, but he was distracted when Emma said his name out loud. _Let__ Emma __explain__ everything__ to__ him;__ she__'__s __been__ so__ utterly __tactful_. Mystique eventually found Angel and Mort on the hotel roof, sitting on the side of the pool with their feet submerged. After a long talk with Angel, the winged mutant accepted Mystique's reasons for not confiding in her sooner. Angel was hurt that Mystique had kept Azazel a secret, especially since she was the one the encouraged Mystique to follow her heart the day she kissed Azazel. In the end, she agreed that Erik rightfully should have been the first to know.

"Emma knew for a while, didn't she?" Angel kicked her toes through the water, watching the droplets form tiny rainbows in the sun. Mort had stripped down to his shorts and was swimming, and trying to convince the girls to join him. Mort's mutation made him a natural in the water, and Mystique was enjoying watching him splash about.

"Yes, but she's a telepath. It's not like I wanted to tell her, it's just almost impossible to keep anything secret from her." Mystique smiled at Angel. "Plus, she's…close with Azazel, for some reason."

"Yeah, that's _so_ strange." Angel shook her head at the thought. "You know, on the old team, when we found out that Emma had been taken prisoner by the CIA, Red was the one who suggested that we rescue her. Sebastian didn't agree, and of course, I had no idea who she was, but I remember that Red pushed the issue a few times. It pissed Sebastian off, let me tell you." Angel looked thoughtful. "If they're so close, why is Emma such a bitch to you?"

"Emma's a bitch to _everyone_ Angel, if you haven't noticed. At least, everyone who doesn't have a _dick_." Angel smirked at Mystique's observation.

"Yeah, but still…you should talk to Red about her attitude. You shouldn't have to put up with that shit." Angel turned to face Mystique and smiled broadly. "So, are you _happy_?" Mystique nodded then reinforced her answer verbally.

"Everything's been so…just _great_." She smiled bashfully. "Yeah, I'm happy."

"Then I'm happy too." With that, Angel splashed Mystique and laughed at her friend's surprise squeal.

Ever since that eventful morning, Mystique and Azazel hardly found time to be alone. While everyone's missions were increasing in frequency, it seemed that only Azazel's and Mystique's missions kept them _separated_, sometimes for days at time. Almost every time the pair found time to meet, just as quickly one of them would be called for a debriefing or a new assignment. Mystique found herself being assigned missions on a more frequent basis than any other team member. Although he'd never admit it – it wasn't in Azazel's nature to show any sign of weakness, even to Mystique – both mutants were _exhausted_ from their non-stop work. Just a week before her last mission, Azazel had teleported Erik and Emma into the kitchen, scaring Angel and Mystique and knocking over the kitchen table in the process. All three team members wobbled on their feet and looked absolutely _drained_, while Azazel frowned and looked mildly disoriented as to why the trio was standing in the kitchen instead of their usual teleportation spot in the lobby. Later that night, Azazel admitted to Mystique that he hadn't slept properly in _days_. Their schedule was too demanding, and putting a strain on their budding relationship.

* * *

><p>Presently, the mutant pair lay for a long time on Mystique's bed, the only sounds in the room being the rise and fall of their breath and the occasionally smack of Azazel's tail against the sheets (Mystique still wasn't entirely convinced that Azazel had 100% control over his extra appendage). Eventually, Azazel murmured something about <em>dinner<em>, and at the mention of food, a hollow gnawing began in her stomach. It struck Mystique then just how incredibly _hungry_ she actually was. As much as she didn't want to stop lounging with Azazel – these quiet moments were become too few and far between – Mystique sat up and sleepily nodded in agreement. A short while later, Azazel returned with an impressive spread of food for the pair, and they sat on the floor of her room to to dine, using pillows for chairs. Mystique didn't dare suggest eating in the kitchen, less she risk being summoned to yet _another_ mission.

Two hours later, when dinner was finished and they shared their days' stories, Mystique found herself on her back again, this time with the weight of Azazel's body pressing her rhythmically into the mattress. On nights she came back from missions with Erik, Azazel was always persistent about being intimate, no matter how tired they were or how limited their time. Under any other circumstance, Mystique would have eagerly met his persistence – no man had ever _wanted_ her as much as Azazel did - but too often now she felt that she was being pulled into his arms more for affirmation than for passion. The red mutant had also begun using possessives more often, and at times, the frequency of his pillow whispers "_lyubov__ moya,_" and "_devotchka __moya_" made her raise an eyebrow. The stress he places on the word _moya_- my, _mine_– was sometimes more unsettling than endearing, as if she was a favorite toy he was defending in a sandbox of children. He'd never admit weaknesses, let alone insecurities, and she tried her best to reassure him that she wasn't going anywhere.

As his movements increased and his body tensed, Mystique encouraged him by wrapping her legs tighter around his hips. Seizing her leg under the knee, Azazel pulled her tightly to him as groaned in release, arching his back and bracing his weight on his free hand, his fingers sharply digging into the bed sheets. As he relaxed, he released her leg and touched his forehead to hers. With glassy eyes and trembling breath, Azazel murmured to her in Russian as he stroked the side of her face. She ran her fingers lightly across his back and watched him intently. She _loved_ his behavior after climax; it was the only time she ever saw Azazel absolutely _vulnerable_. Even when they made love, Mystique was acutely aware that Azazel was incredibly dangerous, and that he could easily end her life at any moment if he wished. This danger, of course, was part of what attracted her to him in the first place. They were both complicated pieces that together formed a very deadly whole.

After catching his breath, Azazel slipped out of her and rolled on his side, his tail snaking around her upper thigh and pulling her towards his body. He nuzzled her just below her ear, and she giggled from the sensation of his beard on the sensitive scales of her neck. All the while, he moved his hand down her side, tracing clever fingers across her hip and stomach, and finally making her inhale sharply when he brought his hand in-between her legs. Azazel _never_ stopped before she was completely satisfied. Since the first night they laid together when he asked her about her desires, he seemed to make it a personal mission to learn every secret about her body.

Tonight, however, her exhaustion was getting the better of her, and no matter what he did, she knew she was too tired to achieve release. Truthfully, Mystique didn't even want to have sex to begin with that night – all she wanted to do after dinner was _sleep_ - but Azazel had been so persistent and it had seemed like ages since they had alone time that she didn't have the heart to deny him. She briefly thought about faking it – she could easily moan for a bit and tense her muscles – but she hated the idea of faking anything with Azazel. He was the only man she'd been truly honest with in every way, and she felt like faking something so intimate would be cheating him. Instead, she encircled his wrist with her hand and gently pushed him back. Azazel snapped away from where he had been kissing her collarbone and looked at her in confusion.

"You do _not_ want…?" There was a note of bewilderment in his voice.

"No, it's _okay_."

"Something else?" He answered quickly and nodded as if she had asked him, and then smiled knowingly. "You want the other thing, you like _better_." With that he pushed away from the top of the bed and began moving down her torso and waist. She seized his shoulders before he got too far.

"No, I don't want _that_ tonight, either." He looked up at her for a few seconds before shaking his head, slightly defeated. "Really, it's _okay_."

"But…"

"Look, it's not you. I'm just really, really _tired_." Mystique brushed his hair back from his forehead offered him a reassuring smile, but Azazel bit his lip and looked like he didn't believe her. He pushed away from her, moving to the opposing side of the bed, and roughly grabbed a towel off the nightstand and started to clean himself off. Mystique frowned.

"What?"

"_Nothing_."

Mystique knew that whatever was bothering Azazel wasn't _nothing_, but right now, she didn't want to push the issue. He tossed the towel to the floor and hit his pillow a few times before laying down on his side of the bed, careful to not to intrude upon Mystique's. Mystique sighed laid back to look at the ceiling. Deep down inside, she knows it's unhealthy for her to be flattered by his sulking, but part of her is. No man has every sulked because she wasn't around or unavailable. After a few moments, she reached over and finding Azazel's hand, squeezed it reassuringly. Eventually, he squeezed back, and spoke.

"You are _always_ tired now." Mystique doesn't respond. She knew that lately she's used that line more often than she'd like to admit, but it was the _truth_. For the last few weeks, it seemed like she is too exhausted to do anything. She _hated_ it.

"I remember time when you were not too tired for _me_." Mystique rolled on her side and propped her self up by an elbow. Azazel continued to gaze at the ceiling, not meeting her eyes.

"Azazel, that's _not_ fair. I just spend this _entire_ evening with you."

"_Da_, but _entire_ time you wanted to be _sleeping_." He threw his hand up on the back of his pillow and resettled his body. Azazel sometimes had a hard time saying out loud what was really bothering him, and Mystique suspected it had everything to do with the fact that he spent most of his life in the company of telepaths. As a child, whenever she was upset, Charles could simply _feel_ it; words were not necessary. Azazel grew-up with a parent who never needed him to speak for her to know exactly what was on his mind, and Mystique had seen Azazel and Emma talk for hours without sharing a word between them.

"Talk to me." Mystique reached out and tucked a wayward a lock of hair off his face and behind his ear. Until the first time she saw him step out of a shower, she never realized how long his hair actually was since he always kept it slicked back. Azazel looked at her for a few moments before sighing.

"Magneto gives you more assignments than anyone else on team. He keeps you away on purpose."

"It's just business." Azazel mumbles something in the dark, facing away from her, and Mystique rubs her eyes.

"What?"

"I said, _I__ miss __us_." Azazel looked at her silently for a few seconds before continuing. "I miss when it was _just_ us. You spend so much time away now that I think sometimes you will forget about us." She is taken aback by his candid statement. It's the first time she's even heard him tiptoe around his own insecurities.

"You really think that I am going to _leave_ you?" Azazel rolls to his side and puts his hand on her hip, running his fingers across the pattern of scales on her side.

"_Nyet_, not really. But I am just tired of having to share you all the time with everyone else." For the briefest second, Azazel's guard is down and she can see that he's telling the truth. Things had been so different from the first weeks they were together. Gone were the days when they had the audacity and time to lie in bed all day, the most pressing issue being thinking of new and interesting ways to please one another. She missed it something terrible. The couple never fought like this before, and for the last few weeks they've snapped at each other and let their stress affect them. Mystique wanted to strike a balance with the Brotherhood, not have her life dominated by it. She and Azazel deserved better than this.

"We could all use a little rest." Mystique ran her hand up Azazel's arm, tracing a faded scar over his bicep. "I'll talk to Magneto about our mission schedule as soon as I can." In the darkness, Azazel nodded. Without hesitating, Mystique snuggled up to him, and he curled around her. They talked in hushed whispers for a long time, dreamily and laughing, and for a while, it did feel like old times again.

* * *

><p>In the morning, Azazel's side of the bed was empty. Mystique knew this fact without even opening her eyes. As sleep dissipated, she couldn't feel his familiar weight on the other side of the bed, or hear him breathing. Mystique pulled the covers over her head and snuggled further into the nest of blankets. Most likely, Azazel was called away for a mission and left quietly so as not to wake her. With their schedules, it's not uncommon for either of them to be gone in the morning.<p>

While she expected him to be gone, what she doesn't expect was when she finally sat-up in bed, to find her room _filled_ with flowers of every shade imaginable. Hundreds of flowers were strune artfully around her. She laughed out loud as she sat in bed, taking the scene in. Azazel was not one to actually say the words "I'm sorry" – she's heard him say those words exactly _twice_ in the entire year she has known him - but he has a grand way of showing an apology. As Mystique walked to her bathroom, careful to not crush any of the blossoms lining the path, she made a mental note to talk to Erik about taking some time off soon. That, and see how many vases around she can find around the hotel.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: Thank you so very much to everyone who has taken the time to review and keep-up with this story. It means so much to me! I'm so sorry that it took a month to update…school kicked my butt this semester, but now I should be back to a more regular update schedule. Hooray for small miracles, right?<br>_

_I hope you enjoyed this last chapter, and I promise the next one will appear very soon. Happy holidays to those who celebrate!_


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

"_Knock, knock_." Erik quickly sat-up, inhaling sharply as he turned in the direction of Mystique's voice. The blue girl stood in the kitchen doorway, her arms casually wrapped around herself. He glanced at the wall clock and frowned.

"It's so _late_." Erik sat back from the schematic plans he had been reviewing and yawned. He had clearly been asleep when Mystique arrived, but neither mutant acknowledged this. Erik looked at her with bleary eyes. "I thought I was the only one still awake."

"I couldn't sleep. I thought I'd make myself some tea." Mystique smiled sweetly as she walked past Erik toward the stove. She had been waiting almost three days to find time to speak with him. Azazel had left two hours prior on a mission with Emma, and she seized the opportunity to seek out Erik in private. He watched her as she filled the kettle with water and set it on a low burn.

"Your _friend's_ not going to be mad that you are here alone with me, is he?" Erik eyed her warily, his statement in a challenging tone. Mystique shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly and slid into the chair next to him.

"He doesn't own me." She pretended that Erik's comment didn't sting; with all her experience, she had become quite good at pretending things involving Erik didn't bother her. She knew it still grated him that she was with Azazel, even if Erik freely admitted their own relationship had been less than ideal. He nodded and didn't push the topic further. Mystique slid a vase out of the way so she could better see the schematic drawings Erik was reviewing. He raised an eyebrow at her frown.

"_What_?"

"Nothing, it's just…" Mystique leaned forward and studied the drawing in silence. She tapped on an arrow that Erik had marked and shook her head.

"This isn't going to work." When Erik tilted his head at her challenge, she pointed to the red mark again and explained.

"This? It's a back entry point, and the base will be more heavily guarded here. I know it sounds crazy, but the front entry and the side entries are going to have the least amount of soldiers." She slid her finger to two doorways that Erik had left unmarked. She glanced over the entire drawing once again before sitting back down and nodding. "This looks just like the base I infiltrated last week. They have the most important stuff in the back, so that's where the strongest firepower is. Going in through there…it'd be _suicide_."

"You're right, it does sound crazy." Erik offered her subtle, sideways smile. "But crazy is what got us here in the first place, isn't it?" Erik looked over the plans again briefly before making new marks on them. As Mystique watched, she noticed for the first time the dusting of silver hairs marking Erik's temples. She wondered how many gray hairs were caused from the last year alone. When she visited Charles, she remembered how much thinner his hair looked, and had wondered then if the stress from Cuba and from being a school headmaster was finally catching up with him. It was times like these when she was glad her own X-gene prevented major changes to her appearance.

"_If only_…" Erik mumbled under his breath as he sketched. Behind him, the teakettle began its low, musical whistle.

"_Hmmm_?" Mystique got up to pour the tea. Erik sat back and tapped his finger absentmindedly on his lower lip while he surveyed his work. He turned slightly to look at Mystique over his shoulder.

"If only there was _one_ world leader who wasn't afraid to come out and admit that there is nothing wrong with mutants. Even better, if a respected leader had _mutant powers_. Then maybe people would at least _try_ to understand."

"Well, there must be _some_ leaders with the X-gene. Charles always thought it was far more widely spread than we originally thought." Mystique placed a mug in front of Erik and retook her seat, blowing on her own tea to cool it down. "Too bad there wasn't some way we could _activate_ recessive mutant genes, like with a machine or something."

"A _machine_?" Erik laughed and took a sip of his tea. He winced, momentarily forgetting the liquid's heat. "You sound like one of those silly science fiction movies Sean and Hank used to watch. _Ah_…." He chuckled and shook his head dismissively. "Manipulating mutant genes is more of _Charles's_ area of expertise, and last I checked, we're not exactly on _speaking_ terms." Erik pushed aside his mug and started marking-up the schematic again. It was the first time he had mentioned anyone from the _old days_ in passing conversation. Mystique watched him silently for a while before leaning forward and gently touching his arm.

"You are pushing yourself _too_ hard." Erik froze in mid-mark, tensing at her touch. Ever since their confrontation, she had not once touched him. "Even leaders need to get rest."

"I'm fine." Erik waved off her hand and continued working.

"No, you're _not_. You're exhausted." Mystique bit her lip. "We're _all_ exhausted."

Erik looked at her sideways for a few seconds before pushing the drawing away. Turning to face her, he folded his hands in his lap and looked deeply into her amber eyes for a long time before speaking.

"Why do I get the feeling that tea is not the _real_ reason you're awake right now?"

"Because you _know_ me." Mystique smiled playfully. She was pleased to see Erik's face soften enough to allow a small, hard-earned smile lift the corners of his mouth.

"That I do, my dear. What's on your mind?"

"We're overworked and underpaid." Erik snorted softly at her statement. Both knew the mutants weren't actually _paid_ for any of their work. Through Emma's clever business tactics and the Hellfire Club's steady income, the Brotherhood had access to secure funds. "We need a break. _You_ need a break. Just because you are the leader doesn't mean you have to do _everything_ yourself. We're a _Brotherhood_, after all. We want to help you, not just take directions." To her surprise, Erik nodded in agreement. Encouraged, she continued, "I know that Janos and Mort would like to be more involved in planning missions, and Angel's got some really great ideas for recruitment."

"I think…" Erik hesitated before nodding again, "yes, we can discuss this at the next meeting. Having someone take over recruitment would be a great help. I guess it would be nice to sleep in a real _bed_ again." Mystique smiled at Erik's poking fun at his recent kitchen nap. His expression soon became serious, and he pointed at the schematic plans on the table. "This next mission is _critical_. It's the most important one we've done yet, and we need to strike _soon_."

"I know," Mystique agreed readily. "But after it's complete, we _need_ to rest. We can't keep going at this pace. Everyone's getting short tempered and the team isn't functioning well." Mystique watched Erik carefully to gauge his reaction. "I need fewer mission assignments. I know my work is important, but Erik, I cannot keep going at the pace you set for me, and…well, neither can Azazel." Erik looked down at his hands at the mention of Azazel's name. "It's not fair to us."

"I'll consider it."

"Thank you." Mystique breathed a sigh of relief. It was hard subject for her to brooch with Erik, all things considered. Erik's gaze settled back to the plans on the table, and he glanced at the vase of flowers as if it was the first time he was noticing them. He furrowed his brow.

"Where did all these _damn_ flowers come from?" Mystique shrugged innocently, playing dumb while she suppressed a laugh. As Erik shook his head, Janos walked into the kitchen. At the sight of Erik and Mystique at the table, he stood up very straight. He clearly didn't expect anyone to still be up.

"I…" Janos pointed to the sink. "Water." He strode quickly to the cabinet and grabbed a glass.

"Riptide, come here look at this." Erik beckoned Janos to the table. He only addressed the team by their mutant names. The young mutant hesitated, looking first at Mystique before he approached Erik. Erik pointed to a section of the drawing.

"Can you knock down the wall of this room?" Janos studied the drawing for a few seconds.

"_Si_, but will be difficult. The hallway? It is too small for good wind movement."

"How do you mean?" As Janos began to explain the subtleties of his talents, Mystique smiled, and grabbing her tea, quietly left the two men talking in the kitchen.

* * *

><p>New Orleans is a sorted, seedy place. It's a city of fairy-tales and voodoo, of darkness and mystery, with a gritty underbelly dusted with enough carefree charm that both fools and kings feel at home walking its narrow, twisted streets. Given its eccentricities, it's one of the few places in which Mystique felt that mutants, even obvious ones, could blend in with the everyday crowds. Despite this, Mystique still felt utterly <em>exposed<em> standing in plain sight without disguise. Her eyes darted around nervously, as if waiting for the second when fingers would point and the words "_freak_!" and "_monster!_" would be hurled. As if reading her mind, Azazel squeezed Mystique's hand and winked at her reassuringly. A trio of humans stumbled past, shouting in joy and inebriation. No one looked twice at Angel's unfurled wings or Mystique and Azazel's radiant coloring as the mutants stood in line, waiting to enter the crowded bar. After all, as far as the humans were concerned, they were just people wearing brilliant _costumes_. Mystique let out the breath that she had been holding and tried to relax.

A short while earlier, Mystique had been in Angel's room getting ready for the evening. There was a hum and buzz around headquarters, and Angel was bursting with excitement. When questioned, the winged girl would only shrug and giggle, never letting Mystique know what was _really_ going on. After they dressed - Mystique electing to wear a real dress at Angel's insistence, and Angel wearing a green, frilly number that oddly looked straight out of _Peter Pan_ - they met their teammates in the lobby. Mystique halted in her tracks upon seeing her friends. They were going _somewhere_, that much she could decipher at least.

"We are going _out_." Azazel said this with great seriousness. He was dressed in his normal attire, although Janos, for some reason, was dressed like an astronaut, and Nick and Mort were wearing clothing that made them look like a cowboy and an army solider, respectively. Angel's wings fluttered gently behind her, making her dress shimmer with movement. Only Erik and Emma were missing from the group.

"_Out_?"

"Yep, _out_." Mort smiled widely as if he knew some grand secret. "Out-out. You know - dinner, dancing - the _works_."

"We can't go _out_," Mystique glanced at their strange outfits, and held up her blue hands, "not like this. We'll be _seen_."

"_Da_, that is _point_ tonight." Azazel smiled wolfishly. Mystique shook her head in confusion. Azazel vanished, and when he reappeared, he held up a calendar, tapping on the day's date.

"October 31." Mystique read the date out loud. She looked her companions again and realization dawned on her. A slow smile spread across her face.

"It's _Halloween_, and baby, we got the _best_ costumes on!" Angel flew a few feet in the air as she laughed. As Mystique stepped forward to take Azazel's hand, she hesitated and looked up at Angel. Fairies and devils made sense on Halloween, as did the other costumes, but _blue_…

"_Wait_." Mystique's scales faded from indigo to scarlet and her auburn hair deepened until it was the color of ink. She opened her now pale blue eyes and smiled shyly at Azazel. While keeping her body and features hers, in an instant, she had copied his coloring so now two _devils_ stood in the lobby. Azazel's eyes sparkled with amusement as he admired her work.

"Wow, that's _so_ sweet, I think I have diabetes now." Angel playfully mocked her friend, and while the others chuckled, Mystique stuck out her tongue before joining them in laughter.

"No _tail_?" Azazel asked teasingly, pointing out her lack of a tail by using his own.

"Tails are…_hard_." Mimicking missing limbs or creating additional appendages was still out of her shape-shifting abilities. Azazel pulled Mystique to his side, sliding his arm around her waist. He offered his other hand to Angel, who linked-up with the rest of the team. In a heartbeat, they were gone.

* * *

><p>The club was smoky, loud, and full of brightly costumed party-goers. Mystique scanned the crowd from her seat on a lounge couch and grinned. The mutants blended in perfectly with the Halloween revelers, and what more, Angel and Janos had arranged for them to meet two other mutants at the bar. Since her late night talk with Erik, Mystique was pleased to see some notable changes in the Brotherhood's structure. Angel and Nick had taken a leading role in recruitment, and while their schedules were still demanding, she and Azazel at least found more time to be together. Life was finally returning to some semblance of normality.<p>

"_Ladies_." Azazel sat down in-between Mystique and Angel on the couch, interrupting their conversation, and blithely put his arms around both women. Mystique giggled and took her drink from his hand.

"Hey, watch the _wings_," Angel shifted Azazel's arm, freeing one of her wings he had pinned. He answered her an amused smirk.

"Please remind me; how many times in submarine did you step on my _tail_?"

"I couldn't help it that those hallways were so damn _narrow_." Just then, Nick slid out of the crowd and motioned for Angel to come dance. Angel leaned over and kissed Azazel chastely on his cheek. As she did this, she quickly snatched his own drink from his hand. He frowned as he looked at his empty hand and Angel flounced away toward Nick, giggling. Mystique leaned over and placed her empty drink where his full one had been a second before. She simpered as he quirked his eyebrow at her.

"Get me another one when you go back to the bar, will you?" Azazel sighed and got back up. Shortly after he left, Janos and Shiro, Janos's date, took Azazel's place next to Mystique. While Shiro could easily pass for human, his mutation was quite extraordinary; not only did he have the ability to fly, but he could also create and control superheated plasma. Erik was keenly interested in getting Shiro to join the Brotherhood, as his powers made him almost unstoppable. Mystique had met Shiro briefly once before on a recruiting mission. She remembered the young Japanese man being painfully shy, but in Janos's company (and after a few drinks), he was quite animated, and the two mutants hit if off quite well. Moments into their conversation, a tall, dark, and handsome man approached the trio. Janos's face lighted-up and he stood, greeting the stranger excitedly; from their body language, Mystique could see that Janos and the man knew each other quite well. In the darkness of the club, the young man's eyes seemed to glow faintly, and he moved with a subtle grace that made Mystique's heat beat just a little bit faster. He eyed Mystique appreciatively over Janos's shoulder. When Janos and Shiro left to get drinks, the stranger approached Mystique, holding out his hand in greeting.

"Rémy Etienne LeBeau, at your service, _mon chere_." Instead of shaking her hand, he brushed his lips softly against her skin. Mystique blushed bashfully, and the man took a seat on the couch next to her.

"You…you know Janos?" Mystique was embarrassed at her stammer, but she had to admit that this Rémy was practically_ walking sex_.

"_Oui_, your friend and I go back way far in dis' here city. We lived in a' underground group, took care o'each other. Dat' be how we _others_ survive."

"Oh, are you also…?" Rémy held up his hand in interruption, grinning at her assumption.

"_Non_ _chere_, sadly for da' men of this world," he smiled seductively at her, winking, "I was born for da' _ladies_." Heat grew across her face again. She quickly glanced at the bar to see if Azazel had gotten their drinks yet.

"What be your _enchantment_, _ma petite_?"

"_Enchantment_?"

"_Oui_. For example," with a magician's flourish, Rémy produced a deck of cards and spread them into a fan before Mystique's eyes. "I got a ting with movin' energy. I can take any of dese' here cards and make 'em light up like the Forth o' July. Powerful useful when I be in a tight spot." Just as smoothly, the Cajun gracefully slipped the cards back into his coat. He nodded to Mystique.

"I can turn into anyone I want, I can even…_I can even talk like 'dem as long as I get to hear 'dem voice, _ma petite." At her demonstration, Rémy sat up very straight and looked astonished at hearing his own voice echoed back. A smile bloomed on his face and he whistled, looking her over appreciatively once again.

"Is this be what you look like for true?"

"Yes, except for the colors; normally I am blue with red hair and gold eyes." Mystique beamed, soothing down her dress. "I thought going as a devil would be more fun tonight."

"I understand dat, _chere_." Rémy leaned in close to her – a bit _too_ close – and whispered conspiratorially, "dere be a man in here, he got a real _good_ devil costume on. 'Bout jump otta my skin thinking da' original con man finally caught with ol' Gambit."

"Gambit?" Mystique tilted her head questioningly.

"Dat be what I call myself on the street. Just like Janos here be Riptide. Our names from the ol' days, when we were running with da' thieves. You got a street name?"

"I only have one name. It's Mystique."

"_Mystique_." He said her name as if savoring it, and picked up her hand again. "Well, look at dis' here _Mystique_. I be the thief, but I do believe you may be stealin' my heart." With that he kissed her hand again, this time allowing his lips to linger a bit longer. His eyes seems to burn like coals as he looked at her. Another hand slipped over Mystique's shoulder. Both Rémy and Mystique looked up to see Azazel, his eyes laser-focused on the Cajun.

"I have returned with _our_ drinks." Azazel handed a cocktail to Mystique, not taking his eyes off Rémy. The Cajun swallowed and his eyes widened slightly at Azazel's annunciation of the word "_our_." "Who is _our_ new friend, _devotchka moya?_"

"Azazel, this is Rémy Etian…_Ettein_…" Mystique flushed at her trouble pronouncing Gambit's human name.

"Rémy Etienne LeBeau, at your service." Rémy smiled nervously, standing quickly and offering Azazel his hand.

"He's one of _us_." Mystique explained. When the two men shook hands, Mystique swore she saw Rémy wince slightly. They chatted for a few moments before Rémy excused himself and disappeared with Janos and Shiro. Mystique poked Azazel flirtatiously.

"_Jealous much_?" Azazel glanced toward the direction Rémy had disappeared.

"He was _bothering_ you."

"Are you sure he wasn't bothering _you_?" Azazel turned to face Mystique, looking at her seriously.

"_Nyet_, I could see how _red_ your face was getting from bar."

"My face _is_ red tonight."

"Was getting _redder_, then." Azazel touched her face affectionately, running his thumb across her cheek. "Will you be blue again, when we are home?"

"Do you not like this?" Mystique frowned.

"Is nice, but I like the _real_ you better." He laced his fingers through hers and held up their hands. "I like the colors we make, when you are blue." Mystique blushed and Azazel became quiet, sipping his drink and watching the people in the club. He narrowed his eyes at one point in deep thought as he watched the other mutants on the dance floor.

"A penny for your thoughts?"

"If we lived in another time, maybe humans would explain us different. Maybe not be so afraid."

"How so?" Mystique swirled her the ice in her drink. She was starting to feel a pleasant buzz from the alcohol. Azazel tipped his head towards the dance floor where Gambit was now chatting-up Angel. _You've met your match there my friend_, Mystique smirked as she watched the two flirt.

"If our Angel had feathers for wings, she might be real angel. Janos, able to control wind, could have been a god. Perhaps Emma and your Charles, oracles. And of course…" He glanced down at his tail, lying limp against the couch. Mystique knew what he was thinking – he'd be a demon – but he couldn't bring himself to say so. "But here we are, _finally_ at point in history when men of science can examine our blood and tell the world that we are _evolved_. Now is the time when we can be explained, but now we are _monsters_, unless they think we are in just _costume_."

Mystique thought about this while she sipped her drink. She and Charles had discussed this very topic when they studied Greek gods in their European history classes. On a recruiting mission many months ago on the Cheyenne Indian Reservation, a young mutant who watched Mystique demonstrate her powers had whispered "_skin walker_" in an astonished voice. When she researched this term at the library, she found that many Native American tribes told legends of people who could change their bodies at will. In the old days, these trickster spirits were celebrated, not feared. That night, Mystique had pondered for a long time about what life might have been like had she been born in another place and time.

"We're changing that, all of it." Mystique looked at Azazel seriously when she finally spoke. "We're making this world safe for mutants, and making the humans see how wrong they are. We are not monsters; we are _evolution_."

"No, we are threats and weapons. You know this, with all the work we have done, every document we have seen from government." _The CIA had certainly saw us as weapons_, thought Mystique. She was sure that with all the mutant research facilities they had seen, it was only a matter of time before the government started experimenting like Erik foretold. _Even Charles, who believes in the good of mankind, is hiding his students_. Cuba was supposed to change all of this, but Erik had been right; all it did was make humans want to round-up mutants and exterminate the threat, or find out how _useful_ mutants could be to them. Mystique shuddered at the thought.

"You should talk to Magneto about that. He knows all about being used as a weapon."

"_Da_, we talked for long time about this when you first joined." Azazel threw back his drink. "I think that is what they were doing to my people, trying to use them as _weapons_. I have had long time to think about this, and I believe it is why Adriana killed her. So she could not be used as weapon. I wonder sometimes if I would have made same choice, if I was trapped in cage."

"Her?" Azazel looked away from Mystique and chewed on an ice cube before answering.

"Our daughter."

"_Oh_." Now Mystique looked away, not knowing how to respond. Azazel looked back at her and sighed.

"Here we are, out for a change, and I talk only of sad things." He put his hand over hers and squeezed it. "Forgive me?"

"It's alright. There's nothing to forgive," Mystique reassured him quickly, and squeezed his hand in return. "It's life. It's not perfect, but we live it."

"Hey, are you two going to sit there all night or are you gonna get up and have some fun?" Angel appeared again, interrupting their moment. Azazel waved her away with a promise to join her soon.

"I thought you didn't dance?" Mystique smiled as Angel receded into the crowd, looking a bit wobbly on her feet. "Two left feet, as I recall." Azazel laughed and stood, taking her empty glass from her hand.

"I get us more drinks, _da_?"

"Ok, but after that, we dance, or maybe I go ask _Rémy_ for a dance." Azazel raised his eyebrow at her.

"I refuse to believe you are a _bad_ dancer."

"_Oh_?" Azazel grinned at her.

"You're too good with sword play, and most of that is _footwork_. Hell, the only reason I took to it was from my years of ballet. Fighting is just dancing with weapons." Mystique made that connection shortly after starting to train with Azazel. Fencing was, after all, just two bodies moving in rhythm and time to one another, not unlike choreographed dancing. She had seen him in battle many times; he was chaos, but a graceful chaos, something that could easily be transferred to the beat and timing of music.

"Maybe I am good at dancing; maybe I have just not had a reason to dance in a long time." Azazel put down their empty glasses and held out his hand. "Maybe I dance with you now, a little?" She smiled and putting her hand in his, accepted his invitation.

In the end, he was right: he was a _terrible_ dancer, but they had fun all the same.

* * *

><p>Mystique lay on the bed looking up at the ceiling. Despite laying perfectly still, the room was positively <em>spinning<em>. They had returned home about thirty minutes ago. They left the others in the kitchen, where they had ransacked the liquor cabinet and continued the party. Somewhere during the night – Mystique's memory was a bit fuzzy – Rémy and Azazel decided to be friends, and both he and Shiro were at headquarters for the night. Amidst a chorus of playful taunts and catcalls, Mystique and Azazel had left their teammates and retired to Azazel's room. Currently, the red mutant was balanced precariously on one foot, trying to pull his shoe off. He succeeded, and smiling, misjudged the distance to the bed and landed loudly on the floor.

"Are you _OK_?" Mystique laughed. He had as much to drink as she did.

"_Da_, never better. I will be up in one minute." After a few seconds, she saw his hand groping the side of the bed. He made no other move to get up from the floor, and after a minute, she rolled to her stomach and crawled to the side of the bed. It felt like a Herculean effort, but eventually, she was smiling down at Azazel and holding his hand. He held his other hand up in a motion to catch her.

"Come down here. Is better than bed."

"Why don't you just teleport up?"

"_Pfffff_." He waved his hand in dismissal of the idea. She realized he was probably not able to do so in his state. After all, it took them _three_ tries just to get home from the bar.

"Is the floor really _that_ much better?"

"_Da_. There is a penny down here. Come, I will it to show you." At this Mystique fell into a giggling fit and pushed off the bed, sliding into his open arms. Now they were both drunk and on the floor. Azazel ran his hands over the sequins of her dress from her waist to her lower back. As he slid his fingers between the hem of her dress and her leg, he raised an eyebrow.

"Your _dress_…" He seemed utterly confused as to why her clothing had not magically transformed back into her now blue skin. "This is _real_?"

"You've hand your hands on me all night and only now you realized my dress is _real_?" Mystique snickered. She took it as a compliment that her skills had advanced so much that she could fool him, even if he was tipsy.

"So, where is this penny you promised?" Mystique asked coyly. Azazel wrapped one of her curls around his finger and watched it unfurl as he let it go.

"I lied." Azazel whispered. He pushed another wayward curl back from her face. "I just wanted you down here with me." At this, he started giggling madly. As she joined in his silly mood, Mystique caught herself thinking that despite his appearance and profession, he'd be great with children. Stefan and Jemaine absolutely adored him, constantly hanging on him and begging him to tell them stories or play during the few times they visited Margali. _It's a shame we can't make a family_. The thought suddenly seemed very sad to Mystique. She had never wanted a child, but sometimes she wondered if she would have felt the same if the world was a kinder place for mutants. Until then, she never wanted anyone to experience the same hate and hardship she faced.

She banished the thought and leaned down, pressing her lips against his. He slid his hands down her sides and firmly encircled her waist. As he rolled her gently onto her back, his mouth traveled away from hers, tracing the scales from her neck to her collarbone. She slid her dress straps off her shoulders and tugged the garment down past her breasts. She bit her lip and moaned softly as he took his time tracing the patterns on her chest. Kneeling between her knees, he hitched her short dress up, and placing his palms on her hips, he continued to move lower down her body.

"What are you…?" She murmured breathlessly, but was interrupted by her own sharp gasp as she instinctively bolted upright at pressure and curve of his tongue on her most sensitive parts. She brought her knees together, but not quickly enough; even tipsy, Azazel had the reflexes of a cat. He held one of her legs fast with his hand and his tail wrapped around the other. His messy hair cut across his face like knives, his pale eyes looking at her mischievously from in between the jagged locks.

"_Relax_," he purred, and lightly kissing the inside her knee, he gently pushed her legs apart, "_trust me_." As his mouth trailed back down, Mystique was nervous, utterly shaken by the rushing wetness and ache that betrayed her self-consciousness. Sensing the tension in her body, Azazel proceeded slowly, letting her become lost in the throbbing sensation of his tongue against the folds of her skin. A heat began to spread out from the core of her stomach and her legs grew ridged as he continued, now using his fingers as well to help her along. She tangled her fingers in Azazel's hair, moving in rhythm with the trembling she felt building from within. When it happened, she was taken by surprise; as she cried out, he refused to cease his movements until her voice lost sound and the sensation reached the point of being unbearable. When he finally pulled away, he brushed his fingers across her and smirked at the way she twitched, her body now far too sensitive. For a long time afterwards, he simply sat resting his temple against her knee and watched her contently as she laid on the ground before him, utterly glowing.

"_Lyubimaya?"_ Mystique opened her eyes at the sound of his voice. He smiled softly at her. "You are so _beautiful_."

She loved him so much it almost hurt. The way he told her with every glance, every touch, every time they made love, that she was _perfect_. It was almost enough to erase the ugliness and anger the world threw at her for the last twenty years. She wanted him, needed him, and as she sat up and embraced him, her hands made quick work of his belt and zipper. Now she pushed him onto his back, his eyes shining in delight at her renewed energy. Before she could remove any more of his clothing, he seized her by her hips and pushed into her. He trembled slightly at the sensation of her body, dripping wet, closing tightly around his, and she pulled back from their kiss, digging her fingers into his jacket. His tail wrapped around her waist, the spade laying flush against the skin between her beasts, its sharp point resting teasingly just beneath the hallow of her throat. She looked down at Azazel, her amber eyes glowing with excitement as he watched her.

_Raven would _never_ do this_.

The thought came to her as she pushed rhythmically against his body and listened to him moan. _Raven_ wouldn't do this, but then again, Azazel would never want timid, shy _Raven_. Azazel was not some meek boy who met her brother's approval, who was impressed by Raven's fake skin and appearance. He was a _killer_, one who would never choose _Raven_ when he could have _Mystique_. And in Azazel's arms, she _is_ Mystique, more so than she's ever been in her life. No longer does she care about control or how she looks, but gives in to how she feels; and right now, they are the only thing that matters in the world. _Raven would never, Raven would never, Raven would_…her second climax came without warning, her voice thick and stuttering, her entire body tensing in beautiful pain. Azazel responded in time with her body, his tail contracting and his back arching as he lifted her off the floor, unafraid of breaking her with his strength. Afterward, they collapsed together, utterly spent, a tangle of sweat and limbs and heartbeats.

"You are a _goddess_," he whispered in between gulping breaths, pulling her hands to his mouth and kissing her palms. "I _worship_ you."

* * *

><p>The pair spent the better half of the next day lounging around, too hung-over to stray much further than the bed. Despite the parched throat and pounding headache, there was nowhere that Mystique would rather have been then right there in Azazel's arms. Many years later, she would look back and think of these times as the <em>golden days<em>; even then, she wouldn't let herself believe that these days were numbered.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

_I miss snow_.

Mystique lay on her side in a rooftop chair, skimming her fingers along the surface of the pool's water and watching the ripples grow as they collided and raced away from her touch. She had been there for over an hour, her only company the thoughts that ran through her mind.

The winter holidays always made her melancholy, and reminded her of her damaged childhood. Even when she lived with Charles, the Christmas season never failed to painfully remind her that the people who called her "daughter" were not indeed her mother and father. This December seemed especially hard. True, this time last year she had been in Nevada, but everything had been so new, so transitional that she didn't have time to stop and really think about _everything_ from finding mutants outside the little ignorant world that she and Charles built, to starting the Brotherhood with Erik. This time last year, her life had a fresh coat of paint on it, but now she had time to really reflect. What she missed most right now was simply snow. Mystique missed the biting cold, the frosted breath, and the first snowfalls of the season. _It just doesn't feel right being in Las Vegas at Christmas_. Sure, she could visit the snow – all she had to do was ask Azazel to take her - but it just wasn't the _same_. Sighing, she rolled on her back to gaze at the stars.

She tried to locate Polaris, the North Star, as the final lingering streaks of night faded. The act of rolling over made her feel lightheaded, and her hand absentmindedly drifted to her stomach. It had been bothering her for the past few days. She didn't want to face the reality that she'd caught that horrible flu Janos's brought home two weeks ago, but it was getting to the point where she couldn't lie to herself anymore. Janos was on the mend now, but not before Angel, Mort, and the seemingly invincible Erik took ill. Mystique had spent the better half of the last two weeks playing nurse for her sick teammates, leaving Azazel and Emma to run things. She volunteered for the job - she _never_ got sick – but now, as slight wave of nausea rolled over her, she second-guessed her own immunity. She was never sick when she lived with Charles, but of course, during that time in her life, she also wasn't running herself ragged with dangerous _terrorist _missions.

Something else was bothering her, too.

Mystique held up her hand and watched it to shift into different sizes, textures, and colors. Recently, she had to concentrate _much_ harder to maintain her shape-shifted disguises. Twice now she had slipped-up while on a mission, although she was exceedingly lucky that both times she had managed to hide it from human eyes. Although these mistakes used to happen more frequently when she was younger and learning to control her mutation, they hadn't been a problem in her adult years unless she was under considerable strain or exhaustion. In the past few weeks, they seemed to occur regularly if she wasn't careful, and even short periods of wearing a disguise left her absolutely drained. _I'm just stressed out_, she reasoned. _Goddamn holidays_. She was tired, it was late, and she should be in bed soon. She could lay on the roof all night and tell herself that she didn't miss the mansion, all decorated for Christmas, but she knew it would be a lie. Despite everything that had happened, it just felt so _weird_ spending the holidays away from her previous home.

As she pondered the stars, she felt an itch in the back of her mind; Emma was locating her. A moment later, Azazel appeared alone on the roof. He took a step towards Mystique before hesitating and holding his hands up in a surrender gesture, a soft grin pulling his mouth lopsided.

"Do you want that I should _knock_, first?" Mystique snickered at his facetious question and he sat down on the chair next to her, placing his hand over her knee. That fight had become a familiar joke between the mutants. His eyes trailed from her face to the hand on her stomach.

"Are you still feeling not well?" Mystique shook her head and Azazel frowned. For the last few days he had been giving her odd looks whenever she coughed or showed illness. He worried about her too much at times, and she didn't want him to think she couldn't take care of herself.

"I think I _finally_ caught Janos's cold." Azazel nodded but didn't say anything. After a short pause, he excused himself, only to reappear soon after holding a steaming mug.

"Here. _Drink_." He held out the mug for her to take. Sometimes Azazel's suggestions sounded more like commands.

"What's this?" She inhaled the contents; it smelled spicy, like liquorice.

"Tea, with _imbir_ and _ykpon._" She looked at him and shook her head. He narrowed his eyes in concentration before shrugging.

"I do not know the English, but it is good to drink when you do not feel well."

"It's _good_." She sipped the hot liquid before smiling meekly. She hated admitting weakness to anyone, let alone Azazel. They sat quietly on the roof watching the stars fade. "You know, I _never_ get sick. I used to think perfect health was part of my mutation."

"_Da_, I hate sick. When I sneeze, I appear _five meters_ from where I started!" Mystique laughed at his joke. He smiled and regarded her thoughtfully. "We should take trip for few days, after next mission."

"I could use a vacation. Anywhere particular in mind?" Azazel shrugged casually.

"Does not matter. Just…_away_. You and I." A few days away to rest and get away from the depression of the holidays sounded like a dream.

"Sounds wonderful. Speaking of…what time is it?" Mystique sat up. The dizziness was gone, thankfully, and the tea did make her stomach feel calmer. Azazel took out his pocket watch and showed her the time.

"Oh," Mystique sighed and stood, "medicine time." She was still on nurse duty, and three of her teammates needed to be checked on. Azazel stood quickly and held his hand out to her.

"I take you downstairs, _da_?" Mystique reached for his hand before hesitating and finally, pulling her hand back.

"You know, it's alright; I think I'll walk. I could use the exercise." Azazel titled his head at her briefly before shaking his head dismissively and vanishing. As someone who could teleport, he didn't see the value of walking places. Truthfully, Mystique was worried about teleporting while she didn't feel well. When she started training with Azazel, it took her _weeks_ to use used to the sensation without throwing-up. She smiled at how long ago that seemed as she made her way downstairs.

* * *

><p>"So. We put lights on dead tree. <em>Why<em>, again?"

"_Geeze_ Red," Angel rolled her eyes at teammate, who stood next to her with his hands tangled in a ball of multicolored lights, "you make it sound _stupid_ when you say it like that. Because it's _tradition_. Duh."

The Brotherhood members, joined by Rémy, were in the lobby decorating a large, slightly tilted fir tree. Angel championed putting up a Christmas tree as a moral booster, and surprisingly, the rest of the team was agreeable to the idea. Presently, Mort and Angel – complete with over-sized Santa hats - were wrapping the tree with lights as Azazel slowly untangled them. Janos was mixing drinks for the group and keeping the record player blaring holiday music. Even Emma sat on the couch stringing popcorn for garland. For once, the telepath was in a surprisingly _good_ mood. _I guess holidays do that to you_, thought Mystique, as she and Rémy sat on the floor connecting hooks to ornaments. When she looked up, she changed her mind, smirking. Rémy was playfully stealing popcorn from Emma's bowl in spite of her halfhearted warnings and hand slaps. _Or, Gambit does that to you_. Emma's flirtatiousness was amusing, if not mildly frightening.

Although not yet an official Brotherhood member, Rémy had spent quite a bit of time at headquarters. He showed-up on their doorstep in mid-November mumbling something about "owing someone some money" in Baton Rouge, and quickly claimed himself a room not too far away from his old friend Janos's. He liked the Brotherhood's location, the heat of the city, and of course, he _loved_ the loud and brash Las Vegas nightlife. While refraining from participating in actual missions, he was amicable and quite helpful to the team. Even Emma had taken a shine to him, which was unusual for the telepath; usually new recruits were beneath her time. Of course, Mystique was sure that Rémy's debonair manners were a big factor in winning over Emma. Mystique thought about the first morning Rémy joined the mutants for breakfast. He walked into the kitchen chatting with Janos, but stopped dead in his tracks when he laid eyes on Emma seated at the head of the table. He stared at her open-mouthed until she looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. Recovering, Rémy offered her a low, gentlemanly bow and flashed a charming smile.

"My Maw always say we'd be able to see angels if it weren't for da salt in our tears. I do believe she was wrong, because I see an angel is sitting right here in front o'me. Pray _chere_, tell me your name so I may die a _happy_ man?" Emma's eyes grew wide and her face uncharacteristically flushed pink at his words.

"I'm Emma…Emma Frost." Emma offered her hand to Rémy, which he immediately seized in both of his and kissed.

"_Madame_ Frost, yo' eyes sure outside any sapphire I ever did see." At this, Angel caught Mystique's gaze across the table and rolled her eyes. Mystique stifled a giggle at Emma's flustered behavior, and Azazel raised an eyebrow coolly at the exchange. Mystique was never quite sure why Emma acted downright coquettish around the rouge Cajun; as someone who could read minds, Emma would be able to see right through Rémy's flirtations. The blue girl assumed that Emma just chose not to read Rémy's mind. _Maybe the illusion is sometimes better than the truth_. Right now, watching the two mutants flirt was making Mystique giggle herself.

"Hey _Gumbo_," Angel motioned to Rémy, "come here and help out with a girl's drink, will you?" She held up her spiced cider, now room temperature, and shook the mug slightly. Rémy walked over to her, and wrapping his hands around her drink, his eyes began to glow slightly. In a few seconds, steam curled up from the top of the mug.

"Anything else you need ol' Gambit to heat up for ya?" Rémy quirked an eyebrow at Angel, but over his shoulder winked at Emma.

"You're such a _cock_." Angle smiled and took her drink back.

"All ya got ta' do is _ask_, _petite_." Angel stuck out her tongue and then laughed heartily as she resumed stringing lights.

"I do not understand this. Why did we kill a tree?" Azazel was frowning and looking at the tree. While no one openly practiced their religion, everyone present had grown-up experiencing a traditional American Christmas. As the child living sequestered in an Eastern Orthodox church, Azazel had never seen an actual Christmas tree. As Angel patiently explained to him the tree's significance, his frown set deeper. Mystique could see how culturally, the non-religious aspects of the holiday wouldn't make much sense.

"I give up!" Angel threw her hands in the hair dramatically, causing her to dip slightly. She had been fluttering near the top of the tree, positioning the last of the lights. Azazel was now sitting on the couch across from Emma. He had given up untangling the lights out of frustration, so Nick had taken over.

"What do you do then, for Christmas?" Mort ventured shyly. He only experienced Christmas at his orphanage, and never once received presents. Mystique made it a point to remind herself to get something for Mort for Christmas day.

"I do not practice Christmas."

"Well, what _did_ you do then, when you were a kid?"

"We didn't have tree."

"Yeah, _no shit_ Red, we've established that much." Azazel shot Angel an annoyed glance. He thought quietly for a few moments before speaking.

"When sun rose on day before Christmas, we fasted. No eating or drinking anything, not even water, until the first star appeared at night. It was very hard because we would spend most of day cooking. We would cook many things that were very special, some I only got to eat that one day for the year. After star appears, there was feast until dawn, and we would put hay all over floor for animals. That was my favorite part, the animals." Azazel smiled slightly at an unspoken memory. He told Mystique once that he had a fondness for animals of all kinds. He spent much of his free time as a child in the company of Father Dyatlov's mare Sashenka, and argued once that creatures like that horse were _better_ than most humans. When Mystique inquired as to why, Azazel responded simply that animals were never afraid of anyone because of their appearance. Sashenka always accepted apples from his hand as easily as she did from the village children.

"So, you didn't get any presents? Just food?" Angel looked confused.

"Where we lived, food _was_ gift. But…as child, if you were very good, Grandfather Frost would come with his horse sleigh give you a gift. If you were bad, he would go right past your house."

"_Grandfather Frost_?" Angel laughed out loud. "Who the hell is _Grandpa Frost_? Is he related to Emma?" Even Emma found this assessment amusing and snickered.

"I have never thought about this." Azazel smirked and nodded at his friend, raising his drink. "Emma, seems you are our Christmas angel!" Emma playfully threw a handful of popcorn at Azazel.

"You already got what you wanted this year, darling." Azazel stole a glance at Mystique and grinned. As the two exchanged looks, _Jingle Bell Rock_ echoed in the lobby. Janos was chewing on a candy cane and had downed one too many of his own cocktails. He stood a bit wobbly in front of Azazel and held out his hand to the red mutant.

"Dance with me, _handsome_?" Azazel raised an eyebrow at Janos's demand.

"You only think I am handsome when you are _drunk_." Azazel crossed his arms in mock anger, smiling lightly. Janos made a face and pushed his hand closer to Azazel.

"Well, what are you waiting for, _handsome_?" Mystique asked playfully. Azazel shook his head at her. After a few seconds, he sighed and took Janos's hand. As he stood up, he looked down at Janos seriously, and raised his hand to point a finger in the young Latino's face.

"_I_ lead, _da_?" Janos nodded and grabbing Azazel's hand, pulled him away from the couch. Moments later, the girls were roaring with laughter as the two men danced around the lobby. Azazel spun Janos, careful not to knock the slightly drunk youth into anything, and Janos unsuccessfully tried to get Azazel to salsa dance. As they twirled around, Erik walked into the lobby and halted in mid-stride. The laughter and dancing stopped, and the only noise was the upbeat music from the record play echoing through the lobby. Erik's lip twitched slightly as he took in the sight of Azazel and Janos paused in mid-dance step. Mystique held her breath as she waited to see his reaction.

"I am _far too_ sober for this." Erik shook his head and laughed, an as an answer to his statement, Mort appeared by his side offering him a drink. Mystique was happy to see that Erik accepted it. He turned and looked at the tree and nodded. He was the only Brotherhood member besides Azazel who had little use for a Christmas tree.

"It looks nice. Very colorful."

"Mags, we got a big _surprise_ for you!" Angel rummaged through a nearby shopping bag before pulling a decoration out. She held it up for Erik to see, her eyes shining with excitement as she triumphantly exclaimed, "_ta-da_!"

It was a simple Star of David, silver and blue. Erik's face was reflected in it like a mirror.

"We thought we'd put it on the top of the tree." Mort said nervously. "It's not _traditional_, but we thought it would be nice to have something for you – for your _people_ - on the tree too."

"It's…" Erik swallowed thickly, not taking his eyes off the star. His voice became quiet. "It's _perfect_." Emma stopped stringing popcorn and looked intently at Erik. He didn't take his eyes off the star. Something akin to sadness reflected in Emma's eyes. Erik looked solemnly at this team.

"You are my people now. _All of you_." A moment of silence descended, punctuated only by the record player as it moved onto a new song. Erik picked up an ornament and began helping with the tree. An few hours later, when the tree was fully decorated, it out-shined the stars.

* * *

><p>Lisa Monroe – correction, Mystique wearing the <em>guise<em> of Lisa Monroe - flattened herself against the wall and waited patiently for the two guards to pass out of sight. She was one door away from accessing the central file room. She clutched the access key she had obtained hard enough to turn her knuckles white. She hoped the third guard, the one she left unconscious, bound, and gagged in the bathroom, didn't wake up before she had obtained the information she needed. Anyone else would have killed that guard for silence, but while Mystique had become proficient in hand combat, she had yet to actually _kill_ a human. When she was sure the guards were at a safe distance away, she crept into the file room and secured the door. She breathed a sigh of relief, released her disguise, and immediately got to work.

Mystique spent the better half of two hours searching through the cabinets to locate the necessary information. Periodically she ducked down to avoid being seen by the guards as they made security sweeps outside. There was a lot of information in this room, and she didn't have the advantage of Emma's telepathic assistance. This mission was entrusted to her and Azazel alone. Her teammate was currently one floor above, waiting for her to whistle for him from their predetermined meeting location. He couldn't teleport directly into the file room due to the advanced security system; only an access card would prevent the alarm from tripping. Mystique was happy to finish this mission. In the last few days, she had been feeling better, and she and Azazel had decided to visit remote and wild Tahiti for a short, much needed rest. She could almost hear sound of the ocean surf crashing as she pulled the last file from the cabinet.

As Mystique stuffed the classified documents in her duffel bag, something caught her eye. There was a file in the cabinet that had been clearly misfiled. She briefly entertained the idea of removing it and placing the where it belonged. She laughed at herself internally for the thought. Still, something about it was unsettling; she had never seen a _misfile_ in all her time stealing classified government documents. As she pulled the rogue file up to examine it, the one behind it slipped out and fell to the floor, scattering its contents everywhere.

"_Shit_!" Mystique hissed, and swiftly crouched, holding her breath with her back flattened against a cabinet. A few minutes later, when she was confident that she had not been seen or heard, she balanced on her knees and began gathering the fallen papers. _This is what I get for trying to be helpful_, she thought, annoyed at her clumsiness. As she shuffled the papers together, she gasped. Staring up at her from the floor was a photo of herself. Underneath it, in bold writing:

_** Raven Darkhölme, alias Mystique. **_

_** Metamorphic abilities. Wanted for treason. Capture/Contain. **_

_** Weapon X Potential. **_

Mystique stared dumbfounded at her photo as she sank to the floor. She remembered the day it was taken; it was the first day she and Charles checked into Agent Platt's CIA headquarters. They were asked to take mandatory head shots for security purposes. She quickly found one for Angel, which read the same as hers. As she flipped through the papers, Mystique found photos and information on all the Brotherhood members, save for Mort and Nick. Only hers and Angel's mentioned _Weapon X Potential_, whatever that meant. There was no information on her brother or his team.

Erik's, Azazel's, Janos's, and Emma's files read differently:

**_ Enemies of the state. Highly dangerous. Shoot on sight_.**

_Shoot on sight…this was a warrant to _kill. Mystique's heart pounded harder in the chest as she quickly read through the rest of the report. There were mentions of the group's activities, a building plan of their Las Vegas headquarters, and a mention of "Operation Freedom," followed by the date December 17, 1963. Mystique felt dizzy and braced herself with one hand as she reread the day. _That can't be possible…that date is today_. Mystique clamped her hand to her mouth to prevent a scream from escaping. She felt sick at the thought of what all the possibilities that this information could mean.

"Well, well, well…what _do_ we have here?" Mystique looked up to see a guard standing over her, smiling cruelly with his gun pointed. "I do believe I have caught myself a terrorist spy." She flinched and he cocked his gun and aimed it between her eyes. "Don't move a muscle _sweetheart_, or I will paint the floor with your brains."

Without hesitating, Mystique kicked the guard hard in his knee, forcing it painfully backwards. His gun discharged, but it fired at the ceiling instead of her face because he was falling backwards. She sprung up and grabbing the nightstick off his belt, she quickly brought it down on his face.

"_I'll kill_…!" The guard's scream was muffled by the crunch of his shattering nose. Mystique hit him again hard and tore the gun from his hand. Even thought he was now unconscious, blood pooling from his wounds, she slid the gun to the other side of the aisle. Mystique snatched the files and ran.

She almost made it without further incident. Mystique didn't attempt to shift back to her disguise; she needed all of her energy to run. Her shock at seeing the files on the Brotherhood members had turned to numbness. She _had_ to reach Azazel, and get back to headquarters before it was too late. Unable to shift, Mystique stuck to the back hallways moved as quickly as possible. Just as she turned the last corner, a hand seized her shoulder roughly.

"_Going somewhere_?" Mystique just barely wrestled free from the second guard's grip. She skidded around a corner and tore down the hallway, pushing herself until she thought her lungs would burst. She whistled, and dropped to the floor and slid as if tagging a base head first. As her body rolled forward, Azazel appear above her. When she came to a stop, she turned and saw that the guard chasing her had stopped as well, directly in front of her teammate. The man's legs were twitching involuntarily. Azazel casually lifted his leg and using his foot, he firmly pushed the man back. As his lifeless body crumpled to the ground, Azazel turned to face Mystique. Blood ran off his sword and he wiped it clearn on the guard's body. Mystique had slid in-between her partner's legs at the same time the guard impaled himself on Azazel's sword. Azazel smiled wickedly and sheathed his weapon as she panted breathless. The files she had retrieved were scattered across the floor.

"We make good team, you and I."

"Azazel…we _need_…to _go_..._we need to go...now_." Azazel cocked his head and walked briskly to Mystique. She struggled to get to her feet, slipping on a piece of paper. Azazel grabbed the crook of her arm and hauled her up, now looking very concerned at her erratic behavior.

"_Devotchka_, what is…?" Before he finished, she thrust the damming paperwork with the day's date in his face. He looked confused briefly, but then his pale eyes grew wide with shock. Azazel swore loudly, grabbed her arm and together, they disappeared.

* * *

><p>When they appeared in the lobby, Mystique quickly started toward Erik's rooms. Behind her, she heard Azazel hiss something in Russian and draw his sword again.<p>

"We have to find…_ahhh_!" Mystique felt a sharp sting in her thigh, he hand moving instinctively to the source of the pain. She looked down to see something brightly colored sticking out of her. _It's a dart_, she thought, frowning with confusion. _Someone shot me with a tranquilizer dart_? She yanked it out quickly but already, she started to feel woozy. She turned towards at Azazel, but before she could speak, there was a tremendous burst of light that sent her flying through the air.

_Silence_.

Mystique lay crumpled like a ragdoll on the floor. There was a loud ringing in her ears drowning out any other sound. She sat up carefully, wincing in pain. A second dart was lodged in her upper arm. She struggled to remove it as something warm and sticky ran down the side of her face. She couldn't focus her vision. The chaos around her was blurry and brightly colored, as if she was watching the scene from underwater. Through the haze of the drugs, she saw Emma in diamond form, fighting a uniformed soldier. Mort was scaling a wall, an matching colored dart sticking out of his side. _They are darting us like we're animals_. The thought made Mystique want to laugh and cry at the same time. Angel was dragging Janos somewhere; from the limpness of his body, he appeared unconscious. Soldiers ran after them. More soldiers poured though an opening where a wall used to be. Beyond it, Mystique could see the soft, snowy peaks of distant Nevada mountains. Erik had his hands up but she couldn't see what, but in his wake a dozen soldiers fell to the ground, screaming. She couldn't see Azazel, Nick, or Rémy. The one thing she could clearly see through the haze was their Christmas tree. It was engulfed in flames. _That's so sad_, she thought, the tranquilizers making her disconnected from her surroundings, _the tree is on fire_. The Star of David burned brightly as it melted. Soldiers seemed to be everywhere.

One of them stopped and pointed his gun directly at her.

Suddenly, there were several quick flashes of light and loud bangs in rapid succession. When it ended, Rémy stood between soldier and Mystique, his chest heaving and his eyes burning as brightly as the tree's star. The solider was now on the ground, breathing but motionless. In his hand, Rémy held several more cards, all of which glowed as brightly as his eyes. The Cajun moved quickly to Mystique's side as the blue girl tried desperately to stand.

"Come to ol'Gambit, _chere_." His arms encircled her body and he easily picked her up. He moved her behind an overturned couch. It wasn't perfect, but it would provide some protection. As he laid her down on the floor, her back against the couch, he put a finger over his lips in a shushing motion.

"Wait here, _wait_ real quiet like. I go get the others and we be outta here lickity split." Rémy smiled at her. Blood flowed freely from his lower lip and his right eye was swelling shut. When he sat back and looked over her, he sucked his breath in sharply and frowned.

"Oh _chere_…_chere_, you _hurt_." Mystique knew she was injured, but she wasn't sure how badly. The drugs in her bloodstream where making the world fade at an alarming rate. Before Rémy could touch her again, there was a scream and more noises behind her. Rémy's face snapped up and hardened instantly. With a yell and a flourish of his cards, he jumped over the damaged couch. Mystique tried to sit up again, but a wave of nausea over took her, and she almost collapsed to the floor. Another soft explosion sounded nearby, but this one she wasn't afraid of.

_Azazel_.

She looked up at him from where she was sat. She smiled in relief and blood dripped onto her chest. He was standing with both swords drawn, facing away from her. Blood was running down the side of his face above his ear and matted in his hair. Whether it was his or not, she wasn't sure. She reached out and grabbed his led. He spun quickly, swords ready.

"_Azazel_." Her voice sounded funny. When she said his name, it came out sounding like "_Zaz Zel_." The sound made her want to laugh. Despite the terror, she felt light and giddy. "I think I'm _hurt_."

He was on her before she could finish her words. He had taken his jacket off and using his hands and teeth, he quickly tore the fabric into strips and wrapped them around her body. He worked with a panicked efficiency. Mystique frowned as she watched the fabric become soaked.

"Your _poor_ jacket." Azazel ignored her and kept making bandages. He looked pale and his hands were shaking. Behind him, something else exploded, and sparks streaked across the room like fireworks. Mystique looked up and couldn't help think that the lights would be so beautiful if everything wasn't so terrifying. She also got the distinct feeling that the words she was forming in her head did not match the noises coming from her mouth. She felt like she was floating, and her head lulled to the side. When Azazel pulled his hands away, they were glistening. Despite his skin tone, she could see they were covered in liquid. _That's mine. All that is _my_ blood_. At this realization, Mystique started shaking hard and uncontrollably. She was going into shock. Azazel mumbled something quick and erratic. She closed her eyes.

"_NYET_! _NYET_! Stay with me!" She could hear notes of panic rising in his voice. _That doesn't' sound like Azazel; he never panics, _thought Mystique_. This isn't real. This is all a dream, a nightmare. Wake-up Mystique. WAKE. UP._ She felt a sharp slap on her face but didn't have the strength to open her eyes. Instead, she reached out blindly until her hand connected with something solid, reassuring; Azazel's hand closed around hers. She felt herself being pulled upwards, and then she was felt the familiar sensation of falling. A hushed quiet descended, followed by a myriad of screams, before the blackness finally took her completely.

* * *

><p><em>Whispers. Whispers in darkness<em>.

Her eyelids strain to open. She could feel a hand wrapped around hers, and she gradually flexed her fingers and squeezed. The hand didn't feel right. It was felt smaller, the skin cooler and smoother that what she expected. Light started to penetrate the darkness. She could the soft murmur of voices but she could not make out their words. The voices sounded relieved, quiet. Slowly, Mystique opened her eyes. As the world came back into focus, she gasped. Sitting next to her bedside was the last person she ever expected to see.

"…_Charles_?"

"_Oh Raven_," Charles's voice broke with relief. He smiled sadly, his periwinkle eyes worn and bloodshot. "Oh, thank _God_."


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Mystique blinked hard, staring at her brother with dumbfounded shock.

"Oh Raven, I thought I'd lost you for _good_." Charles wiped a runaway tear from his face and gently squeezed his sister's hand. His skin felt warm and alive and so very _real_ against hers. _Too real to be just a dream_.

"_Charles?_" She whispered his name again and he smiled wider, his bright blue eyes glistening reassuringly. As the shock of seeing her brother waned, Mystique looked over her surroundings. She was lying in her childhood bedroom, tucked safely into her old bed. She had no idea what time it was, or what day for that matter; her head felt heavy and foggy, as if she had been asleep for far too long. A dull ache throbbed down the entire left side of her body her, and she could feel several places that were bandaged. There were so many things she wanted to ask Charles during her first moment of clarity that she was rendered utterly speechless. Her eyes drifted to the side window that overlooked the expansive side yard. It was dark outside, and a think blanket of snow sat on the widow sill. _Winter. Christmas. A Christmas tree on fire_…the memory of the assault on the Brotherhood's Las Vegas headquarters came back to her with the force of an ocean wave breaking against a rock. Mystique pushed herself up suddenly and leaned, panicked and desperately groping for her brother.

"How…how _did_ I…? What _happened_ to…?" The words slurred as Mystique struggled briefly before crying out in pain. The dull ache along her side became a stabbing pain, and a thunderclap headache descended, scattered her already fragmented thoughts. The happy look on her brother's face instantly melted into one of great concern. Charles swifly caught Mystique's flailing arms, easing her gently back into a resting position.

"_Shhh_…_easy_, _easy_ now. You're _safe. _You're going to be _fine_." Charles brushed stray strands of hair from her face when she settled. Sweat beaded on her forehead and she felt nauseated as aggravated waves of pain rolled through her. She was far weaker and more extensively injured that she realized. "Please, just _rest_."

"_No_." Mystique swallowed thickly. "Charles, _where_…?" She wanted to ask "_where are the others_?" but the sudden unknown fate of her teammates was too dizzying to think about. Her head swam with the implications and she looked at Charles weakly. Charles cautiously rubbed her non-injured arm in comfort.

"I promise I'll explain _everything_ when you are feeling better."

"Am I…am I the _only one_ here?" Mystique managed to blurt it out before clenching her teeth in a hissing breath. Pain throbbed in her head with each pulse of her heart. Charles faced his sister and began to speak, but then hesitated and glanced away. Mystique's lower lip began trembling. She knew what his hesitation meant.

"Yes Raven. You're the only one." She closed her eyes tightly to block out the light. _No one else…no one else made it out._ She wanted to scream and cry and strike out at the world in rage, but all she could manage was a strangled, choking wail. Suddenly the pounding her head and all her other injuries were nothing compared to the ache she felt ripping apart her heart.

"I'm _so_ sorry." Charles picked up her hand again, sqeezing it soothingly. It did nothing to quell the tears rapidly spilling down his sister's cheeks. "But cheer-up, there's still hope! Your teleporting friend is out looking for the others right now; he just hasn't had much luck." Mystique's eyes snapped back open. She looked at Charles with an expression akin to panic, but he seemed not to notice.

"Your…the place you were living at was _destroyed_ by the time he returned, but if you two made it, that means your mates might have made it out as well."

"_Azazel's alive_?" She hadn't dared to hope, not after what Charles had said, but now…"_Where is he? Where's Azazel_?" Charles held up his hands as Mystique renewed her efforts to sit up once again. She inhaled sharply as she struggled.

"Raven, _please_ calm yourself! You're going to make your injuries _worse_." Tiny drops of blood were beginning to bloom at the top of her shoulder's bandage. As she looked at her wounded arm, the memory of blood – _her blood_ – pouring through Azazel's hastily constructed field bandages returned.

"_As I said_," Charles frowned at the red spots seeping through her dressing and began to unwrap the bandage, "he's out looking for the others. He _should_ be resting," he glanced irritated at the door in the direction Mystique knew the guest lodging to be, "but it's not like we could _keep_ him in bed." Charles sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Frankly it took almost _two days_ to get him just to leave your bedside. He wouldn't even let us treat his injuries until he was satisfied that we had stabilized you."

"How long have I been…_asleep_?" Charles looked thoughfully as he measured and cut a swath of gauze.

"Roughly four days." Mystique answered with a soft _oh_ of surprise. _So much time had elapsed since I blacked out_. Mystique opened her mouth again, but Charles held up his hand. "_Please_, don't exert yourself. Everything is going to be _fine_. There, all better!" He finished wrapping the clean shoulder bandage and gave her a warm, reassuring smile. "You must have been so worried, but the baby is going to be just _fine_."

"Okay." Mystique sniffled, and closing her eyes, she laid back to rest. She felt incredibly worn from the brief exchange she managed to have with her brother. So much remained unanswered, but exhaustion was dominating her now. Suddenly, she furrowed her brow. A second later, she opened her golden eyes and fixed them on her brother. _Baby?_

"Wait, _what_ did you just say?" Mystique tilted her head. Charles patted her hand affectionately.

"Well, we were terribly afraid for a while that you'd _miscarry_ due to the extensive trauma, but thankfully, everything looked normal on the ultrasound." Mystique opened her mouth but Charles interrupted. "And before you say anything, don't worry – once we knew, we made sure nothing we did to treat you would hurt the baby. No medications _or_ procedures." Mystique stared at him incredulously for a few seconds before speaking.

"Charles, _what_ are you talking about?"

"What do you mean, what am I talking about?"

"_What_ baby?"

"I…I mean…don't you…?" Now it was Charles's turn to look severely confused. He fell silent, face Mystique with an expression of disbelief. After a brief pause, Charles narrowed his eyes slightly in concentration and subtlety placed his fingers to his temple.

"_Charles_…" Mystique spoke his name in a warning tone. She knew what that gesture meant. It wasn't long before Charles sat back quickly and clapped his hand over his mouth. His eyebrows knitted in shock.

"Oh _Raven_…" Charles slowly shook his head, keeping his hand over his mouth in surprise. "Oh, you _don't_ know, do you?" Mystique looked at him exasperated. For a telepath, she felt that Charles could be really _thick_ sometimes, and state the obvious out of a painful sense of politeness.

"Raven, I don't know _quite_ how to tell you this," Charles paused, searching for the right words. His hands dropped to his lap where he was wringing them nervously. He bit his lip and Mystique raised her eyebrow demandingly.

"Tell me _what_?"

"You seem to be…_well_…Raven, you're _pregnant_."

* * *

><p>Mystique lay on her right side with her knees pulled tightly to her chest. Although her body still ached, the position was familiar and comforting. An hour earlier, Charles had told her what would forever be known as "<em>the news<em>." When he finally left her in privacy, her first action had been to gingerly touch her stomach – something she later reflected that all new mothers must do – but she pulled her hand away quickly as if her skin was burning to the touch. To make such a motherly gesture would make her situation somehow more _real_ than it already wasy; it would be forever erasing any _what ifs_ and accepting that she was, indeed, _pregnant_. After reveling this news an hour ago, Charles gave in to her pleading and told her everything she begged to know.

"Azazel's been searching for your mates since your vitals stabilized about two days ago. He seems to think that Ms. Frost has been in diamond form since the attack, and therefore, she's been unable to communicate. She might be in that form because she's hurt, or…." Charles trailed off Mystique grimaced at the implication. Charles shook his head and continued. "If he can find her, well, I believe she and I can use Cerebro to locate the remainder of your friends. Ms. Frost will be better able to identify their unique brainwave patterns than myself. I've offered you and your teammates _temporary_ sanctuary here at the mansion. You of course…well, if you've changed your mind…" Mystique looked at Charles and he smiled meekly before continuing. He would, of course, attempt to persuade her to leave the Brotherhood and return to his mansion. After what happened, part of Mystique was tempted to accept his offer and convince the others to do so as well.

"How…how could this _happen_?" Mystique had asked the question out loud before Charles had left her side. She and Azazel had always been so very careful. She didn't even think it was possible for her to become pregnant, not from what Hank had told her after studying her blood. Her mutation – her constant cellular reorganization when she shifted her shape – would not permit the delicate, foreign cells of a fetus to change shape within her. She couldn't control a growing baby's body anymore than she could control another person's body. When she spoke out loud, Charles had mistakenly thought she was speaking to him. He glanced at her bashfully, and then looked away, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"Well Raven, _uh_…" Charles's face flushed pink when she caught his gaze. "Well, when a man and a woman…or, in your case, I guess, a male _mutant_ and female _mutant_…"

"_Yes thank you I know how _that_ part happens_!" Mystique pinched the bridge of her nose and then rubbed her eyes. She had enough to think about and didn't need to hear an awkward _birds-and-the-bees_ talk from her older brother.

"What I meant was, how could _this_ happen to _me_?" This time, she did turn to Charles for an explanation. "I thought Hank said I _couldn't_ get pregnant because of my mutation?"

"No, he never said you _couldn't_ get pregnant; it's just far more _difficult_ for you. Honestly, the fact that you still _are_ pregnant is nothing short of a miracle. Your body must be _protecting_ the baby." Charles drummed his fingers on the armrest of his wheelchair and looked at her thoughtfully for a few minutes. "Have you noticed any problems in the past few weeks when you attempt to change shape?" Mystique frowned and looked down at her hands. It was true that she hadn't been unable to fully control her abilities in recent weeks. She assumed it was just stress, but now she wondered if it had been her own body's way of protecting the child she didn't know she was carrying. _Which means I am in for many more months of being unable to use my mutation_.

Eventually, Charles told Mystique that the blood analysis suggested conception about seven weeks prior to her arrival at the mansion. Once alone, she counted the dates backwards on her fingers and concentrated. Seven weeks ago was…_Halloween_. She put a hand over her mouth and her eyes fluttered closed at the realization. They had let their guard down and drank far too much that night. She remembered waking the next day with a pounding headache and feeling like the broadside of a train had hit her. They had looked at each other miserable and laughed, but she and Azazel had stayed in bed the entire day, venturing away only far enough to retrieve water to quell their hangovers. _It must have been that night. And come to think of it_…Mystique frowned. There had been signs the past few weeks that in retrospect, she couldn't believe that she had overlooked. There were the stomachaches, the fatigue, and the of course, she had been late for her period….but none of these were _new_ symptoms. She was often exhausted from missions, Janos had just been very sick, and frankly, she had never had regular menstruation her entire life. Together, Charles and Mystique guessed that her inability to control her mutation was a measure of her body to protect her developing baby. Until she gave birth, she was not going to be able to shift reliably, which mean that Erik would not be able to send her out on any more missions.

_Erik_. She bit her lip at the thought of her former lover. _Erik wasn't going to like _any_ of this. That is, if I ever see him again_...

"I'm so _sorry_," Mystique said this out loud, even though there was no one else in the room. She put her hand back over her stomach, firmly this time. She thought about her recent missions, her drinking and partying, and everything one absolutely should _not_ do when pregnant. Her face screwed-up once as fresh tears burned behind her eyes.

"I'm sorry I'm already such a _shitty_ mom." She curled-up tighter and cried for while, saddened by the realization that this baby was not something she was exactly _happy_ about. Thankfully, Charles had assured her that only he, Moira, and Hank knew about her condition, and they would not share this information with anyone. She absolutely dreaded telling Azazel. _At least I know he's the father_. She had lashed out at Charles before he left when he casually asked her if she was _certain _who the father was.

"_Charles Francis Xavier_, I leave your home for one year – _one year_ – and _this_ is what you think of me? _Yes, of course I know who the _father_ of my child is_!" Mystique had shot him a look of death for his question. Charles had held up his hands in surrender.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like _that_...it just came out. Yes, of course you do." Charles sighed and put his hands back in his lap. He looked at Mystique and offered her a small smile of truce.

"Well, I guess congratulations are in order. After all, I'm going to be an uncle, right?" Charles beamed. "So, I guess Erik really _is_ family now, huh?" Mystique shook her head.

"Charles, what do you mean?"

"Well, if you are having Erik's child, then…"

"Erik isn't the father." Mystique interrupted quietly, looking away from Charles and soothing the bedspread around her in nervousness. A small part of her dreaded telling her brother the truth. Despite their differences, Charles loved Erik, and the idea of his best friend being the father of his sister's child would solidify their brotherly bond. For a fleeting second, Mystique wondered if Charles saw her child as a way to bring both Mystique and Erik back into his life.

"Erik's not…?" Charles looked confused briefly before gasping in realization. "Oh Raven, please tell me it's _not_…?" she nodded, not letting him finish. Charles sighed audibly, politely keeping his opinion internal. An awkward silence descended, interrupted a few moments later by her brother.

"Does he want this child?"

"I..." She sniffled, and looked into Charles's eyes. "We didn't think it could happen. I don't think…" She paused. Azazel had always been adamant about not having a child, not after what happened to his wife and his daughter. She doubted that he'd change his mind, especially after what just happened to their team's headquarters. She was terrified of telling Azazel, considering she was the one who told him this exact situation wouldn't happen in the first place.

"I don't know."

"Do you, Raven?"

"Well, it's not like I can do anything about it now!" Mystique snapped back. Her anger at the unfairness of the situation was mounting. Her body started to ache again and she didn't feel like disucssing her condition anymore. Charles waited for her to calm down for a few moments before quietly speaking.

"You do have…_options_, you know." Mystique looked at Charles and raised an eyebrow. He signed and continued.

"If you really don't want to have this child…well, it's early enough in the pregnancy that you can _make_ that choice." Charles's voice trailed away and he looked at the floor, rubbing his arm uncomfortably. Mystique swallowed. She understood now what the option he suggested was, and her stomach twisted into ropy knots. She didn't want to even think the word "_abortion_," but in reality, she wondered suddenly if that might be the best choice for her predicament. The Brotherhood was no place to safely raise a child. She felt lightheaded when she thought about what the attack would have been like if she had a _child_ to protect. She doubted that the soldiers who attacked her would have shown _any_ mercy to a mutant child, and once captured…she grew nauseated at the thought of the medical experimentation on mutants the Brotherhood had uncovered so far. _What if her baby was tortured and mutilated in the name of ignorant science?_ The thought sent her reeling and she put her hand over her mouth as her mind raced. She'd never let one of those humans lay a finger on her child, but how could she protect a child if she proved she couldn't even protect herself?

"Your Brotherhood is no place to raise a child Raven. Be _reasonable_. If you want to have this child, by all means, do, but _please_, stay _here_. Have the baby here." Charles looked imploringly at his sister. "You'd both be much safer, I could make sure you'd get proper medical care, and…"

"Charles, this is all too much right now. _Please_."

"_Raven_…"

"Charles, I _don't_ know what I want right now, _okay_? I _don't_!" Her body ached fiercely once more as she turned to face her brother. "I just want everyone to be _okay_. I want everything to go back to how it was _before_ we were attacked. Before everyone…before we were..." at this, Mystique collapsed into racking sobs. Without hesitation, Charles wrapped his arms securely around his sister as she wept. She made no attempt to stop him.

"Oh _Charles_…"

"I _know_ Raven, I _know_." Despite the year apart, he was still her brother, and his arms felt more safe than almost any place she had ever called home. When her tears finally ceased, she asked him to leave her in privacy. She had much to think about before Azazel returned.

* * *

><p>Mystique didn't know how long she had been dozing when Azazel returned. Her wounds were keeping her from drifting back into a deep slumber. Over all, her injuries had been quite extensive; she had arrived at the mansion with her left leg broken in two places, a dislocated shoulder, a broken left wrist, three cracked ribs and multiple lacerations. She required three blood transfusions before any of her other injuries could be addressed. The rapid healing power of her mutation, however, worked in her favor; in four short days, her broken bones had knitted, and all but the deepest cuts were fully closed. Charles told Mystique that he expected she should make a full recovery with another week of rest. However, right now, rest wasn't coming easily to the blue girl. As she tossed and turned, trying to ease her pains, she was tempted to contact Charles telepathically for sleeping pills, but she wasn't sure if it would be safe for the baby. This new development was already making life <em>difficult<em>, even if she didn't know exactly what she was planning on doing about the tiny life growing inside her. One thing she _did_ know was that she wasn't going to tell Azazel about this situation until she knew exactly the right way to do so. _If I need to tell him at all_. She frowned as she mulled over the "option" Charles at mentioned earlier, but making any decisions right now was too overwhelming.

It was still dark in her room when she heard Azazel appear near the foot of her bed. She looked at him through the darkness, her voice caught in her throat. In the second he appeared, a wave of unadulterated relief and happiness washed over her. After all that had happened, seeing Azazel alive and standing at the foot of her bed almost moved her to tears. The red mutant looked unsteady on his feet and utterly exhausted. He rubbed his face with his hands vigorously before shaking his head, as if he was trying to shake away sleep. His right arm was in a sling, and Mystique could see bandages around his left wrist. He wasn't wearing his normal suit, but rather he was wearing a dark turtleneck and black pants, both a bit too short for his physique. She realized that these were Erik's clothes, most likely left behind when Erik and Mystique never returned to the mansion. Azazel gazed at her lying on the bed for a few seconds before sighing, and walking a few feet to the dresser. In his exhaustion, he hadn't noticed that Mystique was now awake. She heard the loud _thunk_ of his metal weapons hitting the wood of the dresser. He stretched and wincing slightly, put his hand on his lower back. She heard him mumble in Russian to himself as he stood facing away from her.

"Azazel?" At the sound of her voice he spun around quickly, his mouth open in surprise.

"_Devotchka_?" His voice was just barely above a whisper, as if any louder noise would make her disappear. She smiled and sat up slightly, but before she could answer, he appeared standing next to her bedside. He leaned down and reached out for her, but then hesitated slightly, as if afraid touching her would harm her in some way. She couldn't see his face clearly in the darkness, but his eyes were shining brightly. She took his hand in hers and pressed his palm against her face. The breath he had been holding came out in a rush. His shoulders sagged and suddenly Azazel seemed much older and less invincible than she remembered him.

"I thought you _were_…I did not _know_…" Azazel started at her in a state of disbelief, his fingers frozen against her face. He swallowed thickly. "I thought I was _too late_."

"No, you were _brilliant_." Even though it hurt, Mystique reached out further and touched his face, running her hand from the smooth skin of his temple to the coarse roughness of his beard. "You _saved_ me." He looked deeply relieved to see her alert and speaking. He sat down next to her on the bed, grimacing apologeticly when she winced as his added weight shifted her her position on the bed.

"Should I not…?" He made a motion to get up. "I will sit in chair instead." Mystique seized his arm as he turned. Pain or no pain, she wanted Azazel as close to her as possible.

"No, it's okay, I'm fine, really." _The baby's going to be just fine, too. _Mystique shivered at the sound of Charles's voice echoing in her memory. She cast her eyes down to her lap momentarily as she forcibly pushed the thought away. Azazel brushed her face lightly with his fingertips, tracing the ridges along her cheekbone. All she cared about right now was that, miraculously, the man she thought she would never see again was alive and right beside her. She motioned for him to come closer. He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. Their kiss was full of sadness and rejoicing and all feelings in-between. She didn't know if she wanted to laugh or cry when he finally pulled away from her. He held her face in both his hands, pressing his forehead to hers and holding her.

"I _worried, d_evotchka__." His face was wet. Mystique didn't know if it was from her tears or his.

"You know it'll take more than that to get me." They sat in this position for a long time, content to hold each other and be held in silence. Eventually, Mystique spoke, breaking their trance.

"Azazel, why here?" Mystique leaned back and looked into Azazel's stormy eyes. "Why did you take us to Charles's house?" He looked confused for a moment before motioning to her injured arm.

"You were hurt badly, I did not…we could not go to hospital, or doctor. We had to leave headquarters, before soldiers…" Azazel drifted off, lost in his memories for a few seconds before shaking his head and looking at Mystique meekly. "I did not know where else to go." Mystique nodded and took his hand again. It had been a big risk on Azazel's part to appear uninvited at the Xavier mansion. After their last encounter with Charles's team, Azazel could almost be guaranteed he'd be aggressively attacked at the moment he materialized. She wondered how it must have looked for him to appear with her torn-up and bleeding in his arms. As she thought about this, Azazel's face brightened slightly and he reached into his pocket with his uninjured arm.

"Here." He motioned for her to hold out her hands and he dropped something small and cold in her palm. When he pulled away, Mystique saw Margali's silver bracelet in her hand. "It was all I could find. All that was left in room." Mystique quickly slipped the bracelet over her wrist. She watched it gleam in the darkness, shining brighter than even Emma could ever hope to be…

"Did you…is anyone else...?" Mystique looked at Azazel hopefully as she thought about their missing teammates. Azazel smiled and nodded his head.

"_Da_, Emma and Rémy are now here. They are resting in rooms down hallway. We settled them before I came to you." Mystique laughed out loud in sheer relief.

"Any sign of the others?"

"_Nyet_, but when Emma is better, she and your brother will help locate others, then I go and get them. Bring everyone here for now."

"Are Emma and Rémy _alright_?" Azazel nodded.

"Emma took knock to head, make her powers weak for last few days. She had hard time reaching me, wasn't strong enough until just a few hours ago. Gambit has broken leg and fever, but Emma took him to hospital, had enough strength to convince doctors they were not mutants. Both will be fine after rest, which your Charles has kindly offered." He brushed her hair back over her shoulder. "As will you." Mystique nodded. Azazel made to get off the bed and she became alarmed, siezing his hand.

"Where are you going?" He looked down at her from next to the bed.

"I go to sleep on couch, next to bed."

"No, stay here. Stay with me." She motioned to the bed next to her. Azazel started to sit back down and frowned.

"I might hurt you if I touch injuries while I am asleep."

"I don't _care_. I want you _here_, next to me. Please?" Azazel nodded and stripped his clothing off, folding it carefully and placing it on the chair next to the bed. Mystique shifted over in bed to make room for him, careful to avoid putting pressure on her injured side. Azazel carefully slipped in-between the sheets and gently folded his arms around her. His tail carefully coiled around her waist, the spade laying flat across her belly.

"I missed you." He whispered into her ear as he buried his face in her hair. His breath was warm against the back of her neck. Such a simple thing - sleeping in the same bed, something they had done dozens of times before this night - made her want to cry all over again. She clutched his hands tighly in hers.

"I missed you, too."

"Everything will be alright now. _Nyet_ worries." Mystique nodded and listened to Azazel's breath slow and steady as sleep took him. For a brief few moments, she let herself pretend that everything really was going to be fine. She looked out the window at the fading stars and wondered if Angel, Janos, Erik, Mort, and Nick were looking up at those stars somewhere and thinking the same thought.

_The baby's going to be just fine. _After Azazel fell asleep, Mystique slid her hand gently to her stomach where Azazel's tail was coiled protectively and their child grew secretly, unknown to him. For a moment, she let herself imagine that was true as well.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

Deep in sleep, Mystique could smell warm, rich scents of cinnamon and clove. The smells seemed to float around her like ribbons, coaxing her eyes to flutter open. For a brief moment, her heart skipped a beat when she faced her surroundings, but as unconsciousness dissipated, her memories tumbled back violent and the view of the mansion was no longer a surprise. She sat up, the bed sheets pooling around her waist, and noticed with a certain amount of pleasure that the pain in her left side had decreased considerably overnight. She also noticed with far more pleasure that Azazel was leaning over her bed, carefully holding a tray piled with French toast, orange juice, coffee, and a white rose. He smiled happily at her.

"_Dobroye utro_." The food smelled wonderful, and she grinned warmly at his gesture. "For you, I have breakfast." Azazel gently the tray next to her and took a seat in the chair he had pulled alongside the bed.

"Did you make this?" The red mutant shrugged and offered a noncommittal answer. Mystique picked up her folk and giggled. "Don't lie to me; I've seen you burn _water_." Azazel rolled his eyes and smirked as he retrieved his coffee mug from the tray.

"Your friend - the boy with the red hair who likes toys? – He made this. He does all the cooking here." Azazel looked thoughtful for a moment before offering, "he is quite good in a kitchen."

"Where's your breakfast?" Mystique's question came out muffled, as she was already eating the toast at an alarming rate. It was delicious, and the first time she had real food she had eaten the attack. She didn't realize how hungry she was until she started eating, and Azazel was right; Sean might be awkward, but he was amazing in the kitchen.

"I have eaten already downstairs with Emma." Mystique's fork paused in mid-lift and she cast a curious glance at her mate. He bit his lip and tilted his head.

"I…I did not want to wake you so early. Emma and I needed to speak with Charles about using his machine to find the others. This is alright?" Mystique nodded and resumed eating.

"Yeah, it's fine. I was just surprised is all." The food was sitting heavily in her stomach. She chastised herself internally for feeling put out that Azazel let her sleep in the first morning the were back together to spent time with Emma. She knew that using Cerebro was key to finding their lost teammates, and at this thought, she felt guilty for being jealous. Azazel was here now with her, and really, that's all that mattered. Mystique finished her breakfast, and pushed the tray back. She had eaten so quickly that was tempted to ask Azazel to get more food.

"Here." Azazel picked her the second mug of coffee and held it out for Mystique. "Two sugars, no cream. Just as you like."

"Thanks." Mystique reached for the mug but as she did, the smell of the coffee brought on a sudden, sharp wave of nausea. Her sat back as her hand shot to her mouth, her stomach churning angrily. Azazel looked alarmed and quickly placed the cup back on the tray. He put his hand firmly on Mystique's arm. She squeezed her eyes shut and desperately attempted to will away the instinct to throw-up. _Not now, not now…_

"_Devotchka_?" The concern in his voice was palpable.

"I'm okay," Mystique swallowed hard as the sick feeling subsided, and she took a deep breath. "I'm okay, I just ate too fast, that's all." She smiled weakly, hoping that Azazel didn't push the subject. The red mutant still looked concerned, but he nodded and released her arm. Mystique eyed the coffee cup warily as she pushed it away. _No more coffee until this kid comes out, either_. Mystique frowned at the thought of the next seven months without her morning caffeine.

"What is it?"

"What is what?" Mystique looked up at her mate confused. His brow was furrowed in concern and his pale eyes searched her face. She felt vunerable and exposed under the intensity of his gaze.

"You look worried."

"No, it's just…well…" Mystique trailed off. She couldn't hide her situation from Azazel for long. Now, with the two of them alone in her childhood bedroom and him still so relieved that she was recovering, might be her best chance to break _the news_ to him as gently as possible.

"_Da_?" Azazel took her hand in his and rubbed the back of it soothingly.

"Azazel, I should to tell you…"

"Azazel, there you are! We were just looking for you." Charles sat smiling happily as Emma stood behind him, her arms defiantly crossed across her snowy white corset. She rolled her eyes at Charles's comment, and although Charles had his back to Emma, he frowned at her reaction. As a telepath, Charles would know exactly where Azazel was, and Emma never believed in being pleasant for the sake of non-telepaths. Azazel stood up and faced the two mutants. Charles smiled again, although his expression looked strained. Mystique couldn't imagine how difficult it must be for Charles to work with the two Brotherhood mutants, especially to allow them access to his most prized technology. Emma offered a curt nod to the blue girl.

"It's good to see you're well." Emma's face remained expressionless. She looked uncomfortable in the presence of another telepath, especially one as powerful as Charles. Mystique wondered if Emma actually meant her well wishing, or if it was just another moment for show.

"Thank you Emma. I was glad to hear you and Rémy arrived safely." Charles rubbed his temple and frowned. The internal tension between the two women was strong.

"We are ready to begin with Cerebro, and we'll need your assistance." Azazel nodded to Charles, but before moving, he turned back to Mystique. Before he could speak, she answered.

"It's okay, we can talk later. It's…no big deal, really." She forced a reassuring smile and patted his hand. Azazel looked unconvinced, but after a slight hesitation, he leaned down and kissed her hand before walking to Emma. Charles glanced at the red mutant as he wheeled himself into Mystique's room. The two Brotherhood members disappeared down the hallway, speaking quietly to each other as they departed.

"He has his own room you know, just down the hallway." Mystique sighed as her bother approached her bedside. He was using the same voice that he had lectured his undergraduate students while at Oxford. "I just don't know how entirely _proper_ it is that he sleeps in here."

"Oh Charles, stop worrying or you'll give yourself a _nosebleed_." Mystique smiled lightly at her brother. "I'm already pregnant, so really, what more trouble can he get me into?" Charles shook his head and sighed. He and Mystique never did share the same sense of humor.

"Have you told him?"

"No, not yet." Mystique interrupted quickly and looked away. "I just…I need a little more time." Charles put his hand over hers and squeezed it lightly.

"Moira will be in later with some things for you. Find a spot to _hide_ them, if he doesn't know." Mystique nodded. She wasn't thrilled at the thought of Moira visiting, but she knew Charles wouldn't ask her to do so if it wasn't necessary.

"Be careful today, will you?" Mystique looked at him pleadingly. "I don't want to lose anyone else."

"I'll make sure they are safe. I'm not entirely _thrilled_ about the situation, but Emma can pinpoint the whereabouts of your teammates much more easily than I. With any luck, you will be reunited before nightfall." Charles smiled and patted her hand. "Don't worry Raven; you have enough to think about right now."

* * *

><p>Mystique had just reached a good part in her book when her door opened sharply and loud footfalls interrupted her reading. She looked up sharply and frowned as Moira entered the room and shut the door behind her. She carried a brown paper bag loosely in her arms.<p>

"Good afternoon, Raven." Moira walked over to the windows in Mystique's bedroom and drew the blinds. The sunlight was blinding on the fresh coat of snow on the estate grounds. Moira turned to face her sister-in-law and forced a smile. Her expression made her look like she was trying hard to maintain her cheery attitude. It was probably just as hard for Moira to be in here as it was for Mystique to receive her company. Mystique gave Moira a sour pout before crossing her arms and turning away.

"It's _Mystique_ now."

"Ah, yes…_Mystique_. Good to see you are feeling _better_." Moira walked briskly towards Mystique's and placed the brown paper bag onto the nightstand.

"Charles asked that I bring you a few items to help with your, ah…the _situation_." Moira pulled out a large brown medicine bottle and held it up for illustration. "These are prenatal vitamins. You are supposed to take them before you get pregnant, but it's best to take them now rather than never. Take two each morning with food or you'll get very sick." She handed the bottle to Mystique, who eyed it distastefully. She hated swallowing pills. Moira handed her a water bottle to go with the pills.

"This," Moira produced a small bottle with a dropper top, "is for indigestion. Put one drop in water and drink with each meal. It should help with the nausea." She handed the second bottle to Mystique. The blue mutant smelled the liquid and made a face. It smelled strongly of anise and pepper.

"Lastly, I have a book you should read." She handed Mystique a large paperback with a drawing of a pregnant woman on the cover. Mystique bit her lip looking at it. It would take her the entire pregnancy just to get through the first few chapters. "This will give you a basic look at what you can expect over the next several months, and…"

"I never said I was keeping it."

"What?" Moira cocked her head, momentarily confused.

"I never said I was having this baby." Mystique looked away. "I'm still…deciding what do to do about this…_situation_, as you and Charles keep calling it." Moira looked at the blue mutant silently for a long time. Her voice was calm when she finally spoke.

"Well then, while you are deciding what to do, you can at least take care of yourself and your baby." Moira soothed her skirt pleats and looked at Mystique thoughtfully. "You might not believe it, but there are families who would be happy to raise this child, mutant or not, if you and your mate are unwilling. You don't need to get rid of it. You could give it up for adoption." Mystique looked at Moira warily for a few moments. Her sister-in-law smiled sadly and looked towards the windows. Mystique suddenly realized that with Charles's injury, he and Moira could probably never have children of their own. She felt a pang of guilt as she watched Moira stare out the window, off into the distance. Moira probably wanted a baby more than anything else, and here was Mystique, pregnant and not happy at all about it. Eventually, Moira shook her head as if snapping out of a trance and faced Mystique again.

"Anyways, you need to be much more careful. Until you do decide what you are doing, no more running around fighting. You almost got yourself killed. You need proper rest and…"

"Don't tell me what to do in my house!" Mystique's momentary pity was quickly replaced with anger as Moira took on the same lecturing tone as Charles. It was one thing if her brother adopted that attitude, but she would be dammed if this turncoat agent treated her like a wayward child.

"This is not _your_ house Mystique." Moira faced her calmly, her hands folded in her lap. Her collected demeanor stoked Mystique's anger further.

"What do you mean? I grew-up here with Charles and I…"

"You walked away from this life. Don't think for one _second_ you have any right to walk back and pick-up were you left off." Mystique looked at Moira dumbfounded. In all the time she knew her, the former agent had never so much as raised her voice to the mutant. "You _chose_ to become Mystique, you _chose_ to leave this house, just like you _chose_ to leave your brother on the beach that day. You have no right to claim this house as your home." Moira took a deep breath and continued. "I am _Mrs. Xavier_ now. This is your _brother's_ house, I am _his_ wife, and you are here as our _guest_. The fact is that he is allowing you and your team to stay here, and I will be _god dammed_ if I am ordered around in _my_ house by _you_." With this Moira stood quickly and handed the remainder of the brown bag to Mystique.

"Find a spot to hide this if you haven't told Azazel yet. Please, for the sake of your baby, try and take care of yourself for the time being. And think about what I said. There are loving homes for your baby if you don't want to love it yourself." Moira turned and quickly trotted for the door.

"You don't like me." Mystique's voice made Moira hesitate. The woman turned and looked back at Mystique over her shoulder. Mystique looked at her definitely.

"No, not particularly."

"You've never liked me." Mystique held up the bag of medicine. "Why are you doing this for me?" Moira held Mystique's gaze steady.

"I am not doing this for you. I am doing this for Charles." Moira then walked out of the room, allowing the door to slam shut behind her. Mystique looked down at her new vitamins. She sighed and shook two out of the bottle, reaching for her glass bottle. Her hands were shaking as she tossed the pills into her mouth.

* * *

><p>Several days had past with no word on the other Brotherhood members. Azazel and Emma continued to work with Charles on a daily basis. The trio left for Cerebro early in the morning and retired late at night, thus far empty handed. They had a few false leads and once Azazel believed he missed intercepting Angel and Janos by mere hours. During this time, Mystique had found that she was able to walk for short distances before becoming dizzy and requiring rest. It was a vast improvement from her former state, and allowed her out of her room for a few hours each day. Rémy was a regular visitor during Mystique's recovery, as was Sean and Jean. The others seemed to give the Brotherhood members a wide berth with the exception of Rémy. The rouge Cajun, with his quick charm and easy, playful ways, fit in with the rest of the mansion's residents with ease. More and more often Rémy would spend time with his new friends, even electing to eat dinners with Charles's team and join Azazel, Mystique and Emma much later in the evening, much to Emma's persistent scowl. The four Brotherhood members were allotted rooms together, but Rémy seemed to prefer to spend his time with the X-Men, as Sean explained to Mystique that were no called. In particularly, the Cajun stuck up a strong friendship with Alex. The two former convicts had much in common. Despite his absence, Mystique found she was happy for Rémy. She had always worried that he was not cut out for the violence that seemed to followed Brotherhood these last few months. As much as she would miss him, she couldn't help but think that Rémy had found a home at the mansion.<p>

Azazel was drained from his work looking for their teammates. Mystique never felt like any time she saw her mate was a good time to tell him _the news_, or could find a way to broach the subject. He was either sound asleep from the exhaustion of their work, or the two mutants there in the company of Emma or the others, discussing tactics and new search methods. The previous night was the closest she had come. Azazel practically fell into bed next to her when he returned.

"Azazel?" She looked at him expectantly in the darkness. He was laying face down on his pillow, still fully clothed.

"Mmm?" He lifted slightly and struggled to remove his coat. Mystique helped him patiently take off his clothing, which he uncharacteristically allowed to drop on the floor next to their bed in rumpled heaps. He slipped under the covers and immediately stared breathing deeply, ready for sleep.

"Have you ever thought about having a family?" Azazel stirred next to her. His pale eyes seemed to glow in the darkness.

"What?"

"You know, having a family."

"I had family."

"Right, yes, I know." She nodded her head vigorously, not wanting to offend him. "But I was thinking…like maybe with me?" He looked at her with an eyebrow raised. She swallowed and repeated herself. "Have you ever thought having a family with me?"

"A family?"

"Yes, as in…you know, a child?" Azazel sighed loudly and closed his eyes.

"You know this is not possible."

"But if it were…?"

"Mystique, it is _very_ late, and I am _very_ tired." Azazel rolled onto his back, tossing his arm over the top of the pillow. He stroked her hair with his other hand in an indulgent gesture. "We can _play house_ in morning. Now, sleep." Mystique bit her lip as she watched Azazel fade into sleep in the darkness. Sometimes he treated her too much like a father gently chastising a child. She bit her lip. The moment to tell him had been lost.

Now, Mystique sat in her bedroom flipping through the book Moira had brought for her. The drawings and illustrations where somehow terrifying to her. There was so much involved in pregnancy and so many steps during which stuff could go wrong; she was amazing that mankind had gotten as far as it had. She was also concerned for the fact that her baby was undoubtedly mutant, and of course, there was nothing written about mutant pregnancies. What if the baby was a shapeshifter? Or, a teleporter? Were there special precautions or complications she had to know about? Already the baby as preventing Mystique form using her own powers. She frowned as she flipped through the book. _How did I get myself into this?_

The knob to Mystique's door turned sharply. Instinctively, Mystique thrust the book she had been reading under her pillow and looked up nervously. She was surprised to see Emma standing in the doorway, her arms crossed and her lips drawn into a thin line.

"Emma?" In the hallway, Mystique could her the faint sounds of male laughter coming from the parlor. Rémy's distinctly boisterous laugh was among them. "Azazel's not here." Emma's scowl set deeper at Mystiuqe's words.

"You think I don't already know that?" The white mutant stood a moment longer before sighing and walking over to Mystique's bedside. The blue girl eyed her teammate suspiciously.

"I…sorry, I forgot." Emma rolled her eyes and sat on the side of Mystique's bed. The blue girl cocked her eyebrow. "Can I help you with something?" Emma held her gaze for a moment before sighing and casting her eyes to the floor.

"I didn't want to be in my room anymore. Azazel's not around, and I can't talk to _them_." Emma jutted her chin towards the door. More laughter trickled up from the boys. Mystique was dumbfounded that Emma wanted to talk to her. She didn't know what the two had in common outside of Azazel. At this thought, Emma narrowed her eyes and bounced her foot harder. In a voice akin to a snarl, Emma snapped, "we're on the same team, remember? I can't talk to _them_ and I am _bored_." Emma sighed and put her hand down next to Mystique's side, looking out the window at the fresh snow. Suddenly, the white mutant cocked her and slowly turned to face Mystique. Mystique raised her eyebrow at Emma's peculiar expression.

"Emma? Are you alright?" Emma's eyes narrowed as she looked at Mystique. Her gaze slowly drifted to the blue girl's stomach. The white mutant frowned, but then her cerulean eyes widen in sudden realization. A perfectly manicured hand shot to Emma's mouth. She turned back to face Mystique, surprise flooding her features.

"Mystique! You're _pregnant_!" Emma's voice was just above a whisper. Mystique sat straight up in bed, shocked as to how Emma suddenly knew. She did not feel the white mutant reading her mind.

"How did you…did you read my thoughts?" Mystique wrapped her arms around herself protectively. She felt vulnerable and exposed, and certainly not happy that Emma knew the news before Azazel.

"No, I didn't. I…I can feel the _baby's_ thoughts." Emma swallowed and looked back at Mystique's stomach, as if to illustrate. "How far along are you?"

"Two months, about." Mystique felt panicked. She did not want to be discussing this with Emma. "If you can feel the baby, then how come you didn't know before now? I only found out when Charles was treating me for my injuries."

"Babies are different. You have to be really close to detecting their thoughts. They think in more feelings than actual words." As Emma said this, she nodded. Mystique wondered briefly how Emma knew this exactly. Even Charles didn't know much about reading the thoughts of unborn children. Emma looked back at Mystique. "Does Azazel know?"

"Not…yet." Mystique bit her lip. "We weren't planning on it. It just kinda happened." Emma nodded her head but did not speak again. "Emma? Please don't tell him."

"Why would I go and do that?" Emma eyed Mystique coolly. Mystique shrugged, knowing full well that the white mutant knew exactly why she would request that. Emma sighed. "No, of course. This isn't my news to share. Who else knows?"

"Charles and his wife, and Hank. Hank found out when he was running blood tests during my recovery. They've all promised to keep it a secret. And now, you." Emma nodded again and returned her gaze to the windows.

"Charles…Charles doesn't think I should keep it." Mystique's voice came out quietly. She was surprised that she suddenly felt something akin to relief discuss this with someone other than her brother and Moira. Her initial shock of Emma's discovery had waned, and while she certainly didn't feel close to Emma - she would rather have Angel to talk with - it still felt like a relief to discuss this baby with someone who seemed sympathetic.

"_What_?" Emma's voice sounded like a dagger. Her eyes fixed on Mystique and narrowed.

"Charles doesn't think…"

"_You listen to me_!" Emma stood and pointed her finger at Mystique. "Don't you ever – _EVER_ – let a man tell you what to do, _you understand me_?" Mystique shrank back from the force of Emma's words. The white mutant looked like she could start a fire with her anger. Mystique wondered briefly if there was something behind Emma's rage and fury. She didn't know much about her teammate's private life. "Do you want this baby?"

"I don't…I don't know. I don't know if Azazel wants this baby." Emma sat back down next to Mystique. In a surprise gesture, she took Mystique's hand in hers reassuringly.

"He'll want the baby Mystique. It'll just take some time for him to get used to the idea."

"But what if he doesn't? I can't raise this baby alone." Tears pooled in Mystique's eyes. Emma squeezed her hand.

"You're not alone. You're part of a team, remember?" Mystique sniffled and raised her eyebrow at Emma. "You really think we would abandon you just because you are pregnant?"

"No but…"

"Then it's settled." Emma stood and nodded at Mystique. "You get rest. Don't worry about Azazel or the others. We're a team. We might not always get along, but if there is one thing a team does, it doesn't abandon its teammates. We'll take care of you...both of you."

Mystique watched Emma walk out of the room. Her head was spinning. It was the closest she had come to having a normal conversation with Emma, and Emma was actually kind to her. She put her hand on her stomach and closed her eyes. For a moment, Mystique wondered what the baby thought of this turn of events.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

"There is _no way_ you drew an ace! You are _totally_ cheating." Angel slapped Rémy's hands as the Cajun laughingly pulled his pile of winnings away from the center of Janos's bed. The jackpot wasn't much; the group was using jellybeans and popcorn taken from the mansion's kitchen in the place of coins and poker chips. Mystique had lost almost everything in her last hand, but it didn't stop her from snatching a handful of popcorn from Rémy's winnings and tossing it in her mouth as the rogue mutant smiled sweetly at Angel.

"_Chère_, I swear on my mamma's heart that I just be lucky at dis here ol'e game."

"Yeah, _right_…and I'm the fucking _tooth fairy_." Angel stuck her tongue out at Rémy, who responded by throwing a jellybean at her. Mystique snorted as Angel shrieked and lunged at Rémy, and Janos grinned weakly as his friend's play fighting progressed. The white bandage around his head was stark against his olive skin, a bright reminder of the injuries he sustained from the attack. The four young mutants currently sat in Janos's bedroom at mansion, entertaining themselves with a deck of cards while Emma, Charles, and Azazel continued the search for the missing Brotherhood members.

* * *

><p>Angel and Janos had arrived to the mansion nearly a week ago on Christmas Eve. Using Cerebro, Emma and Charles were finally able to lock onto the pair's location. Angel and Janos had made it all the way from Las Vegas to Tularosa, New Mexico, a small town outside of the Mescallero Apache Reservation. Janos had been badly hurt during the onslaught, and Angel had taken him to a park outside headquarters. When she turned to fly back to continue fighting, she saw the Hellfire Club fall in the distance. Angel had screamed and sank to her knees as she watched the building she had called home for the last year crumble into ruins. She wanted to go back for her teammates, but when she looked at Janos, she knew he needed medical attention immediately.<p>

"I wanted to go back and look for you, I really did," Angel told Mystique as the two friends embraced upon her return to the mansion. After Janos had been settled into his room, Azazel brought Angel to Mystique so the girls could reunite. Tears had flooded Angel's cheeks. "But Janos….he was bleeding _so much_ Mysty, I was scared I'd lose him if I left. I just prayed and prayed that you and Red and everyone got out okay."

Mystique nodded sympathetically, wiping away her own tears. She knew Angel was forced to make a hard choice, and if the blue mutant had been in her shoes, she wondered what decision she would have made. Even Azazel didn't go back for the others until she had been delivered safely to the mansion, and even then, it was too late to find anyone.

"What about the others? Erik, Mort, Nick?" Angel bit her lip and swallowed hard, shaking her head.

"I didn't see anyone else. It was just me and Janos, and we had to get away, and get help."

Angel had bandaged Janos's wounds as best as she could and when darkness fell, she chanced flying them to find help. Angel had flown for seven hours before collapsing outside of a broken down trailer on the outskirts of the tiny town. She had just enough strength left to fold her wings back into tattoos before an older Mexican couple found them and took the pair to the local hospital. Angel and Janos remained practically invisible at the hospital, too afraid to leave until Azazel miraculously arrived and took them to the mansion. Despite his injuries and the situation, Janos had joked it was a "Christmas miracle" to be found and reunited with the team.

"Why Tularosa? Why so _far_?" Mystique couldn't imagine how painful the flight had been on her friend's delicate wings, especially if she was carrying Janos the entire way.

"We _had_ to get away. Those…those _monsters_ that attacked us would be looking for us. It was like they _knew_ who we were." Angel shuddered at the thought before shaking her head. "…and we had a better chance of going unnoticed so close to an Indian Reservation. No one at the hospital looked at us twice; no one ever does when you're just another poor _Indian_ kid." Angel smiled bitterly and lit up a cigarette. Mystique walked to the window and cracked it open. Charles detested the smell of cigarettes, but she didn't have the heart to tell Angel about the "no smoking" rule at the mansion. "There's three strikes if I ever saw them: I get to be a _girl_, _colored_, and a _freak_." Angel wiped the tears from her cheeks then took a long drag before asking Mystique, "How did they know?"

"They had files on us Angel." Mystique's stomach churned when she thought of the paperwork she had found on her last mission. "They had been watching us for a long time and we had no idea." Mystique filled in Angel on the information she found. Her friend's eyes grew wide as she listened. The blue mutant also explained how Emma had discovered that the collapsed Hellfire Club had been blamed on "terrorist mutant activity."

"But they…_they_ were the ones who attacked _us_!" Angel jumped up from her chair in rage and her wings furled out as her anger grew. "They were trying to _kill_ us! How _dare_…they _can't _just blame…this un-_fucking_-believable!" Angel pounded her fist into her hand. A long line of ash from her cigarette fell to the floor.

"I know Angel; trust me, I know." Mystique bit her lip when she thought of the darts she had been shot with. The soldiers were trying to kill some of the Brotherhood members for sure, but she had the sickening feeling that they were trying to _capture_ others. When they were children, she and Charles had confessed their fears of being discovered and subjected to experimentation, and her talks with Erik and Azazel had only confirmed her worst nightmares about humanity's view of mutants. _And what did "Weapon X potential" mean in my file_? Mystique shuddered when thinking of all the implications. She hadn't voiced her fears to anyone about the darts, or about the cryptic information in her file. She found herself desperately wishing that Erik was there to speak with; somehow she felt he would know what it all meant.

While Mystique had filled Angel in on the details of her and Azazel's arrival at the mansion and Charles's decision to allow them temporary sanctuary, she had not told Angel about the baby. Despite knowing about her pregnancy since waking from her coma, she still hadn't found just the right way to break the news to Azazel. True to her promise, Emma had not breathed a word about Mystique's condition, and when around the others, she acted her usual frosty self towards the blue girl. Since discovering _the news_, however, Emma had all but kicked Moira out of her role as Mystique's nurse. Mystique was grateful for the change, as she was never comfortable around her Moira since their fight. It had taken a long time to accept that Moira was right; this was no loner Mystique's house, but it was still hard for the blue mutant to think in those terms.

* * *

><p>Now, everyone had settled into life at the mansion, although the Brotherhood members sequestered themselves in the wing Charles had given them with the exception of Rémy<em>, <em>who was quite friendly with both teams. Most of Charles's team ignored the arrival of Angel and Janos with the exception of Sean and Jean. Jean had been delighted to see another female mutant, and Angel took an instant liking to the young girl who reminded the winged mutant very much of herself when she was younger. It was no secret that Sean had always been enamored with Angel. Mystique remembered how Sean and mopped around the mansion for days after Angel defected to Shaw's team, and he was the only one who grimaced when Alex had used Angel's name as if it was a swear word. The two newest recruits on Charles's team - two young men named Warren and Bobby - looked at the Brotherhood members with curiosity, but never interacted with them. It was as if they had already accepted them as enemies based on their history and god-knows-what they heard from Alex.

There was a soft explosion just behind Mystique, and before she could turn around, she felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her shoulders. Azazel's beard was rough as it bushed against the side of her face. Ever since the attack, Azazel had been far more affectionate towards her, as if he was afraid he'd never have the chance to do so again. Mystique also suspected he wasn't entirely thrilled at the idea of her being alone in the mansion with several other younger male mutants while he was away searching for their team.

"Oh, get a _room_ you two!" Angel threw a handful of popcorn at Azazel, who deflected it with the spade of his tail.

"_Chère_, dat dere be my winnings you throwin' 'round like you were my woman," Rémy threw another jellybean at Angel, who this time caught it and popped it in her mouth. Azazel smirked at Angel.

"We have room. You should know, you are _always_ in it." Mystique laughed. Angel was a regular visitor, sometimes to Azazel's annoyance. He liked his privacy and he wasn't used to people walking into his room without notice, or in Angel's case, often without knocking. Angel waved his comment away.

"Whatever, you love me Red." She smiled sweetly. "And you're in _good_ mood. Did you have luck?" The smile slipped from Azazel's face, and Mystique bit her lip as her mate sighed.

"_Nyet_, but we try again when Emma is rested." The process of searching was taking it's toll on Emma. It was draining on Charles as well, but Emma was not used to using Cerebro and had to take more frequent breaks so she didn't strain her abilities. Charles would often remain in the machine working on Emma's leads while she recovered. The first time she used the machine she couldn't use her powers for almost an entire day and was quite shaken by the experience. Emma did not like to admit weakness of any kind.

"Speaking of resting," Janos said quietly with a soft smile. "I think I need more, yes?"

"Do you need…?"

"I'll stick around him Mysty, don't worry." Angel fluttered up from her spot and pointed at the bell by Janos's bedside. Since his arrival, Mystique and Angel had taken turns keeping Janos company while he was bed-ridden. Mystique had nearly recovered from her injuries, which made moving about the mansion much more comfortable. Angel spoke quietly in Spanish and Janos nodded. She grabbed her purse and turned back to Mystique and Azazel. "I'll be just outside and he can ring me if he needs anything." Angel winked at them. "Why don't you two take the night off while you can."

"Only if you're sure…" before Mystique could finish, the room dissolved and her own room appeared before her eyes. Mystique scowled as a wave of nausea rolled through her.

"I _really_ wish you would warn me when…" for the third time, Mystique was cut off before she could finish her sentence, this time by Azazel's mouth pressing hard against hers. She could feel his muscles and the heat of his body through his clothing. As he kissed her, his curled his tail around her waist and pulled her flush against him. He pulled back and closing his eyes, pressed his forehead against hers and running his hands down her arms, squeezing her gently at the elbows. They hadn't really had a chance to be alone since Angel and Janos returned, and now that her injuries were almost healed…

"Why, _hello_," Mystique purred as she put her hands on his face, and a lock of his hair fell against hers. Her irritation at the sudden teleportation was gone in a flash as he held her close. Sometimes she thought she could stand for hours just holding him and being held, listening to their hearts beat and feeling his skin against hers. She leaned forward and initiated the next passionate kiss, and as they embraced, a though popped into her head. _He's in a good mood. Now would be a good time to tell him_. She pulled back looked into his eyes.

"Azazel?"

"_Da_, _lyubimaya_?" He smiled lustfully as he studied her face, running his fingers lightly across the scales on her cheekbones. His stormy eyes were so intense as he ran his fingertips across her bottom lip that for a moment she forgot what she was going to say.

"I need…to tell you something. Important. Can we talk?"

"_Da_, surely." When she opened her mouth against to speak he covered it with his. They kissed deeply and when he pulled away slightly and whispered in her ear, "we talk as long as you want…_after_." She giggled as he nuzzled her neck just below her jawbone. _Maybe after would be better_…_we've had so little time alone the last few weeks_…she smiled and started to unbutton his shirt.

A sudden boom made Mystique jump, and she turned just in time to see their bedroom door burst open. Before she could react, Azazel had spun around to face the intruder, his short swords drawn and Mystique pushed behind him. Angel stood in the doorway, her wings beating in excitement, suspending her 3 feet off the ground. The slight breeze stirred Mystique's hair and mirrored the sudden beating of her heart.

"_Angel, knock_…!" Azazel's reprimand was cut off by the winged mutant's excitement.

"Guys, come quickly!"

"Angel, _what_ is…?"

"It's Erik," Angel beamed. "He's _back_."

* * *

><p>It was strange seeing Erik sitting in the parlor of the mansion. <em>Just like old times…only everything's different<em>. Mystique frowned and fiddled with the teacup in her hand. Whenever things were awkward, Charles always cheerfully suggested tea as if it was a valid solution to all of their problems. Right now, twelve mutants and one human were in the room, each holding rapidly cooling cups of tea save for Erik and Hank. The Brotherhood's leader was slightly reclined in Charles's desk chair while Hank stood next to him, carefully examining the burned skin on Erik's forearm. The silence was deafening, and lines had clearly been drawn. Mystique and Angel sat on the love seat behind Erik, and Azazel stood behind them, his hands tightly gripping the top of the love seat and his tail twitching like a cat's as he stood protectively behind the women. Emma stood off to Azazel's left side with her arms crossed, leaning against the wall.

Opposing the Brotherhood were the remainder of Charles's team, with the exception of Jean and his newest student Alex. Moira returned to the parlor after ushering the two young teens out of the room, and she stood in the shadows behind Charles looking as out of place as Rémy, who sat in-between the two teams, looking unsure of where to be_._ Sean sat on the opposing couch, staring at his hands in his lap, but Alex stood next to him with his arms crossed, glowering in the general direction of the Brotherhood. The blond had never concealed his feelings about Charles's decision to let them stay at the mansion. Seated next to Sean was Bobby, who's powers Mystique did not know, and standing behind the seated boys was Warren, who looked small compared to the downy white wings on his back. Both these boys stole glances at the Brotherhood, more curious than anything else. Mystique hadn't seen Hank since her last visit to the mansion; when she caught his eye, he quickly turned back to examining Erik's wounds. Her face burned and he flexed his knuckles so hard they popped. Behind her, she heard Azazel's tail swish a bit more fiercely.

"Are you…_absolutely_ sure of this?" Charles pronounced each word carefully, as speaking to a child. Erik drew a sharp breath and looked at Charles with narrowed eyes.

"They're using _mutants_ Charles." Erik's jaw clenched. "They are using mutants to hunt us down like _dogs_." Mystique's blood ran cold at his statement and Charles rubbed his eyes. Her brother had located Erik shortly after Emma took leave to rest and sent the Blackbird to retrieve him. Erik had been with Mort, who was now recovering upstairs with Janos. Erick had been wearing his helmet since the attack to protect himself from discovery by the wrong side. Nick had not survived the attack on headquarters. When Erik shared this news, Angel looked down and her hands folded in her lap and bit back tears.

"But how did you…"

"Because I could _feel_ one reading my _fucking_ mind, Charles!" Erik yelled and started to stand up before winching and grabbing his arm. Hank put his hands up in a calming fashion and motioned for Erik to sit back down. Erik caught his breath and sat back, allowing Hank to finish bandaging his arm.

"I could _feel_ them searching my thoughts, just like you and Emma, only a _different_ way. They at least have a telepath, and I'm pretty sure they are have a teleporter too, or someone with similar abilities." Mystique sold a glance at Azazel. Her mate's face remained unreadable, but his tail continued its aggressive lashing.

"There was something else," Erik continued. "When I was working undercover for several weeks, I found out about a program but I couldn't get concrete details on it. There was called "Weapon X." I don't know much, but I do know that it involves using mutants as weapons, just how we were used at the government compound..."

"That was in my file!" Erik ceased talking and everyone looked at Mystique in surprise. She felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her when she realized she had yelled. She steadied her breath and tried not to think about all 13 pairs of eyes staring at her. "During my last mission, I found files on all the Brotherhood with those words in it - "_Weapon X_." I brought them back to headquarters, but before I could show anyone…" Her voice trailed to a whisper. "Well, you know what happened." Mystique carefully explained all the details she could remember. With each word, Erik's scowl set deeper, and Moira put her hand to her mouth and slumped against the wall behindher.

"_Oh God_," Moira whispered. Erik raised an eyebrow at his friend's wife.

"You…you know about this, don't you?" Moira looked like she was going to faint. "What is _Weapon X_?" Charles wheeled over to Moira and took her hand his his. Moira started shaking her head at Erik's questions.

"I…no, I didn't…I mean, I had heard but…it wasn't an actual plan, and it was the reason I left the CIA…" Tears formed into Moira's eyes and ignoring everyone in the room, she looked only at her husband. "They wouldn't do that Charles, I know they wouldn't!" Charles squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"It's alright, love. Take a breath, and tell them." Moira began again.

"Weapon X was a program that had been discussed as a solution to the "_mutant problem_." One of the lead associates suggested that instead of eradicating mutants, the government should recruit them and give mutants the option to be trained to be super soldiers. However, it was met with opposition from several factions, specifically the one headed by Agent Stryker. He believed….well, he doesn't see mutants as people with rights. '_Why recruit when we should capture them? Knights didn't recruit their horses for wars, did they_?' His views were as disturbing as the number of followers he was gaining. He thinks mutants should be captured and bred to be super soldiers, and when possible, "_enhanced_" medically." Moira shook her head again, this time tears rolled down her face and she turned to face the X-Men. "When I thought of you – Charles, Alex, Hank, all of you – being locked-up in cages and forced to fight…I couldn't be a part of it. I resigned." She turned back to face the Brotherhood. "Weapon X was just an idea, a suggestion. The government turned it down when it came to proposal…"

"…and then sold the idea to a private company to wash their hands of it, no doubt," Emma interjected in a clipped tone. She looked disapprovingly at the X-Men who stared at her dumbfounded. "Oh, don't give me _that_ look. My father took government kicked-back contracts all the time. The higher-ups can't officially be linked to that shit; it'd be too _controversial_ for their reelection campaigns. No, instead they give backdoor funding and resources to secret companies that have no problem doing their dirty work." Emma offered a nasty smirk towards the young men in the room. "When you're born into money, you learn a little about how it works."

"Now, let's not jump to conclusions…" Charles raised his hand at Emma, who crossed her arms at the challenge.

"Jump to conclusions?" Angel spat heatedly. "_Fuck_ this Charles, they were trying to _kill_ us, and know we know they were targeting your own _sister_ but you don't want to _jump to conclusions_? Whose side are you on, anyways?"

"A _turncoat whore _shouldn't be talking about taking sides," Alex hissed at Angel. Her faced paled before turning bright red. She jumped up from the loveseat and unfolded her wings.

"_What_ did you call me you…?"

"You _heard_ me, you…!" In a flash, Angel spit at Alex. Before he could react, the young man named Bobby jumped up and held his hands out. Angel's fireball landed hand on the parlor floor, frozen. Bobby was panting and shaking, and Warren's eyes were wide and nervous.

"_Enough_!" Charles interjected. "Stop this, all of you!"

"We either fight this together or we all lose." Erik's voice brought the room back to silence. He turned to face Charles. "My friend, now we have _proof_ that humans are hunting us and seeking to use us like research animals. They will kill us or use us to their advantage. How long before your little school discovered and these young men and women attacked like my team was?" Erik glanced at the Charles's boys who had fallen silent before continuing. "Now is the time to pool our resources. Now is the time to _fight_."

"Violence only begets more violence. You know this, Erik. You remember the beach," Charles's pale blue eyes looked searching at his friend's face. "We have to fight with words Erik. If we can find a politician to help us make the others simply _understand_…"

"_There has been enough talk_!" Erik stood suddenly, slamming his uninjured fist on Charles's desk. Alex jumped to his feet and Hank stood beside him. Charles remained calmly facing Erik while the Brotherhood members stirred with their leader's rage. Mystique suddenly felt sick and put one hand on her stomach. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that only Emma noticed her reaction.

"Erik, calm yourself…"

"No, I will not!"

"Please, everyone, let's just…" Moira stepped forward, trying to bring the tension down, but it was too late. The scene was quickly spiraling out of control. Mystique put her hand over her mouth as the yelling escalated. Alex was screaming at Erik, Azazel had his hand over his sword, and Angel had joined in yelling at Hank. Warren and Bobby looked scared, and poor Rémy was trying to bring order to the room. Several teacups had been overturned, their cold liquid soaking into the Persian carpet. Even Charles was losing his temper. It was just a matter of time before someone attacked someone else. As she sat motionless on the couch, metal started to rattle, Angel's wings lifted her off the ground, Azazel drew his sword as Alex began to glow and Hank's fur bristled and Sean opened his mouth…

_Do it. _

Mystique looked at Emma as she heard the white mutant's voice echo in her head. The blue girl had been desperately thinking of something she could do or say to diffuse the rapidly deteriorating situation. Emma had known what Mystique was thinking, and nodded her head.

_Do it now. It will surprise everyone enough to stop this before someone gets hurt. _Mystique swallowed hard and opened her mouth.

"I'm pregnant!"

Amidst the yelling, Mystique saw both Charles and Erik turn sharply to face her. The others continued to hurl threats at each other, oblivious to Mystique's statement. Erik stared at her with his mouth open in shock. After a moment more of fighting, the other slowly ceased as they noticed Erik and Charles no longer fighting, but instead, silently staring at Mystique. No one spoke for a few seconds before Erik quietly said, "what did you say?" Mystique turned and looked at Azazel, who was regarding her with a raised eyebrow.

"I said, '_I'm pregnant_.' And, well...I am." When she uttered this statement a second time, no one else in the room mattered to her except Azazel. She was aware of the gasps, of Angel squealing and putting her hand over her mouth, of Sean falling back to the couch saying '_no way_!' under his breath, and of the rest of the room having a similar reaction. Nothing mattered to her but Azazel. The red mutant stepped back from Alex and titled his head at Mystique, his pale eyes wide and searching as if he was seeing her for the first time.

"_Mystique_?" Azazel said her name softly after a few seconds, and she smiled and nodded. Her smile faded when the color drained from his face and the red mutant wobbled slightly on his feet, thrusting his hand out to corner of the desk to steady himself.

"How long have known...?" He looked at her again, this time his mouth open and his head shaking slightly, as if he was trying to talk but couldn't find the words.

"...a little over a week."

"_A week_?"

"I was going to tell you sooner, but…"

"But _here_? _Now_?" Mystique recoiled at the sudden sharpness in Azazel's voice. When he looked at her again, the features of his face were knitted in anger. Panic rose in chest and she stole a glance at Emma. The white mutant's eyes were wide and she bit her lip. He dropped his voice to a heated whisper, as if he was suddenly aware they were in a roomful of people. "This is private thing! Why, with _everyone_ to hear?"

"Azazel, I didn't think…"

"_Nyet_, you did _not _think_!_" The others in the room looked awkward and nervous at the pair. Azazel collected himself and quickly crossed the room to reach Mystique, seizing her roughly by her wrist. As they vanished, Mystique heard Angel announce loudly, "I'm gonna be an _auntie_!"

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: ...and I'm back! Sorry for the long delay. In short: life happened. But, I'm sitting pretty for the rest of the summer and I hope to update this story on a much more regular basis. Thank you SO MUCH for following along and all the lovely reviews. I write for my readers, and I promise I got some amazing stuff coming up soon! Enjoy! :)<br>_


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

Mystique shifted uncomfortably, soothing the blanket on her bed out of sheer nervousness. She silently watched Azazel pace from the window to the front of the bed and back again. He hadn't even so much as looked in her direction since they teleported to their room from the parlor. She cleared her throat.

"Azazel?"

"_Nyet_."

"But I…"

"_Nyet_."

"We should…"

"_Nyet_." He continued his methodical pacing and she lapsed back into silence. Twenty minutes passed. The red mutant occasionally paused and opened his mouth like he wanted to speak, but would instead shake his head and continue his methodical pacing. At the rate he was going, Mystique was sure he was going to wear a groove into the floor. The nervous, angry energy he was emitting was making her tenser than the fighting in the parlor. She wrung her hands in her lap, waiting for _something_ to happen. Finally, Azazel stopped in the middle of the room and put his hands over his face, sighing loudly. His tail hung motionless against the floor, the spade dragging behind him. Mystique saw a chance and cleared her throat again.

"Azazel, we have to _talk_ about this."

"What is to talk about?" He spun around to face her, his hands held out expansively in the air, as if showing proportionally what a large problem stood before the pair. After a few seconds, he sighed and turned his back to the blue girl, rubbing his forehead angrily.

"You knew for _week_." He flexed his fingers in frustration, and she heard his knuckles pop. His tail now lashed irritably. "You knew for _whole_ _week_ and no word to me. Why is this?"

"I tried to tell you _several_ times." He glanced over his shoulder at her, his eyebrow raised challengingly as he waited for her explanation. Mystique flustered, "I…it was hard to find the _right_ time."

"Oh, in front of _everyone_, you tell this? _Da_, _perfect_ time!"

"I _tried_, Azazel. You were always so busy looking for the others and when we were alone, it was hard to find the right words." Azazel spun around and jabbed a finger in her direction.

"You said this was _not_ possible!"

"Well, until a week ago I didn't think it was!" The red mutant crossed his arms and stared hard at her like he was lecturing a wayward child.

"How could _you_ let this happen?" Anger burned like acid in Mystique's chest at Azazel's accusation. She could understand her mate's frustration, but he had no right to _blame_ her for the child he had just as much part in creating. She jumped up from her seat on the edge of the bed.

"_Me_? How could _I _let this happen?" Mystique hissed, jabbing her finger right back at him. "This is _your_ fault too you know! Last I checked, you've got the _goddamn_ parts I had got pregnant from! Don't you _dare_ blame this on me!" Azazel took a step back from her, holding Mystique's gaze for a few seconds before turning away to look out the window. Mystique folded her arms and stared at his reflection in the glass.

"How can we even _have_ child?" Azazel put his hands on the windowsill and leaned forward, biting his lip. "We need doctor and we cannot just _walk_ into hospital."

"I can still shift my skin." Azazel met her eyes in the glass's reflection. Mystique shrugged. "It's harder now, but I know I can do it for doctor appointments, and long enough to deliver the baby."

"Have you ever seen birth?" Azazel raised an eyebrow quizzically at Mystique.

"No, but I …" Azazel shook his head before she could finish.

"Is too risky. There is too much pain and you will lose control of abilities."

"I _can_ do it." Mystique was annoyed with his dismissal of her abilities. True, she had never witnessed a live birth, but she was strong and determined. "It's important enough. I _know_ I can do it."

"And what if baby comes out like _this_?" Azazel held up his hand, illustrating his crimson skin. "Or _this_?" He held up his tail. "What will you do then? You cannot change baby's skin." Mystique opened her mouth but stopped. She hadn't thought that far ahead. True, she could shift her skin, but what if the baby was colored like her or Azazel, or had a tail or other unusual parts? There would be no hiding that.

"We'll think of something," Mystique said reassuringly. "Maybe we don't have to go to a hospital. Maybe Charles knows a doctor who won't say anything, or who has mutant sympathies." Azazel scoffed and crossed his arms again. "And maybe...maybe the baby will look _normal_." Mystique bit her lip and put her hand over her stomach. As much as she had come to accept her indigo scales, deep down inside she wanted more than anything for her baby to look normal. She wondered if Azazel felt the same way.

"And where do we raise child? In Brotherhood?" Azazel shook his head disapprovingly and glanced again at Mystique. She vaguely thought of Charles's offer to let her stay at the mansion, or Moira's suggestion that another family raise her baby, but she dared not mention those options to Azazel. Mystique didn't have all the answers, or really, any answers, except that she suddenly wanted this baby more than she realized.

"_Nyet_. Look at headquarters." Azazel took a few steps forward to Mystique and cupped her jaw gently in his hand, tilting her face up so her amber eyes met his. Her fiery hair spilled over his arm. "Look at _you_. _Devotchka_, you almost _died_ and I could do little to save you. If there had been child at headquarters…" Azazel voice trailed off. Mystique felt sick when she thought of the horrifying implications. A child would have been an easy target for the soldiers to capture or kill, and the adults barely made it out alive. Azazel shuddered, "I will _not_ be responsible for this death."

"Azazel, it's not your responsibility to save _everyone_." She put her hand over his as it rested against her face. Azazel smiled sadly down at her.

"It is when is _your_ child." He held her gaze steady for a long minute. "Mystique," he spoke her name softly, shaking his head. "We _cannot_ have this child." Her heart sank and her knees felt weak. This was the reaction she had feared the most. Mystique laid her free hand across her stomach, as if to shield the baby's ears from his words.

"Azazel, _please_…what are we supposed to do?" He pulled his hand away from her face and stepped back, turning to look out the window again. He rubbed his face vigorously with his hands, as if trying to clear his thoughts. "What do you want me to do?" Mystique begged.

"I do not know."

"I can't just make this _go away_." She switched tactics. "What about your daughter?" Azazel's eyes flashed and he looked at her sharply. "What about the child you were expecting with Adriana? You _wanted_ that child." It was dangerous ground, but she had to try. "Why can't you want this one?"

"That was _another_ life."

"But _why_…"

"_That was another life. _Nyet_ this life!_" His tone was scathing and he was breathing like a wild animal. He held up his finger and pointed it at Mystique. "_You_ are not _her_." Mystique put her hands over her mouth and recoiled as if she had been slapped. As soon as the statement tumbled from his mouth, Azazel grimaced, seeming to understand how poisonous his words had been. He looked at Mystique and bit his lip.

"Mystique, that is _not_…"

"No, I see how it is." She wiped tears off her face with the palm of her hand and looked at him challengingly. "You don't have to have this baby with me because you think I'm a _bad_ mother. Well, that's just _fucking_ great!"

"I did _not_ mean…"

"What do you want me to do?" She cut him off, holding her hands out dramatically. "_Kill it_?" Too late Mystique realized the implication of her words. Azazel's entire body tensed and his hands balled into fists. Mystique wanted desperately to take back her words. He looked at her so darkly that for a moment, Mystique remembered why she had feared him so much when they first met.

"I'm…I'm _sorry_, that's _not_ what I meant!"

"_Nyet_, I think it _is_ what you meant!"

"Azazel…."

"I need…I need to _think_ about this." He looked at her sadly for a few seconds before she realized what he intended to do. Mystique lunged forward, reaching out to grab his sleeve.

"Azazel, _don't_…!" She stumbled and fell onto her knees, coughing from the residual smoke, her hand grabbing wildly where her mate had been standing. When she looked up from the floor, Mystique whimpered.

_He's gone._

Her mind last time he had left, it had been for _weeks_. There had been no guarantee then that he would return, and there would be none now. Mystique started to cry; she couldn't bare the thought of doing this alone. Her sadness gave way to anger as she thought more and more about how unfair the situation was.

"Fine!" She stood up, screaming at the spot where her mate had been standing seconds before. "Teleport away, you _fucking_ coward!" She grabbed a nearby vase off the dresser and threw at Azazel's residual smoke. It shattered in a satisfying way against the wall, the flower petals bursting and falling like blood against the floor. "It's not like I can just _teleport_ away from this problem!" She began to throw anything she could get her hands on, destroying her room in the , the truth of the situation rang hallow in her head. She felt numb as she sank to the floor sobbing.

_He's gone_,_ and I don't know if he's coming back._

* * *

><p>"Shhhh…calm down, you'll <em>hurt<em> yourself, or worse." Erik's voice was comforting as he knelt on the floor next to Mystique, speaking softly to the wounded girl. Mystique sniffled and quickly looked up. Erik was next to her and Emma stood in the doorway with her arms crossed, surveying the destroyed room in distaste. Mystique hadn't heard anyone come in.

"Oh, _Erik_..." She clutched Erik's shirt as fiercely as a drowning man would clutch a life raft. He put his arms around Mystique as the blue girl pressed herself into his chest. She had no idea how long she had been laying on the floor crying, or how much Erik and Emma had witnessed.

"Erik, he's _gone_." Her eyes were wide and her words came out desperate, as if she was trying to convince Erik of something he'd never believe otherwise. Erik shushed her again as she started to whimper. Emma looked patiently at her from the doorway, a frown marring her sparkling features.

"Yes, he's gone," Erik said, pulling Mystique into a firm hug. She buried her face in his shirt and sniffled. Erik stroked her hair back in a calming manner. "He'll come back. He just needs space right now, and you are going to give him that, okay?"

"But he said…"

"He's _terrified, _Mystique," Erik smiled in a fatherly way at the blue girl. "It doesn't take a telepath to see that." Emma snorted quietly from the doorway. Erik turned his attention back to Mystique. "I'm sure you were too when you first found out about this." Mystique nodded weakly. She had been terrified when Charles told her, but it still didn't make Azazel's disappearance any easier. There were no guarantees the red mutant would return, and even if he did, that he would change his mind about the baby.

"How do you know?"

"Well," Erik cleared his throat and hesitated, glancing at Emma. The white mutant caught his eye from the doorway and nodded. "I know because I was terrified when I first found out I was going to be a father."

"Erik, you _never_ told me…" Mystique wiped the tears from her face. She looked at her leader, who nodded solemnly. "You…you have a child?"

"_Had_," Erik smiled sadly. "Her name was Anya. She was the light of my life for the four years she was in it." Erik sighed heavily, suddenly looking much older than he was. "After the war, I wanted so desperately to be _normal,_ to forget what I _was_ and try and be someone who I was _not_. I was young, and I married the first girl who made me smile. She was another survivor, and together we tried to forget what happened to our families and start over." Mystique regarded Erik with wide eyes. In all the time she had known Erik and been his lover, he had never confided something so intimate to her. She realized suddenly that there were depths to Erik that only Charles and Emma's powers could ever truly know.

"Eventually, there was a night…" Erik frowned as he recalled the memory. "One night I lost control of my powers, and I exposed myself to a crowd. It was a backwards village and they burned down my house with Anya inside. She didn't even have a _chance_."

"Oh_, god_…"

"That night, I made the decision to seek revenge against those who had wronged me my entire life." Erik sighed, then looked back at Mystique. "It's not something I talk about. Only Charles and Emma knows about her, and now...you." Mystique nodded and Erik motioned to help her to her feet. She felt honored that he would share something so personal with her just to make her feel better. As she stood, Erik looked around and full appreciated the damage she had done by emitting a low, appreciative whistle. Broken glass sparkled around the room, and books and other items were thrown everywhere.

"It looks like Janos did a number in here," Erik announced. Erik smiled playfully at Emma and nodded towards Mystique, saying "Remind me never to upset her in my room." Mystique laughed weakly as Emma smiled. Erik motioned for Emma to help him support Mystique, and Emma put her arm awkwardly around Mystique's shoulders, not entirely comfortable with the task for comforting the blue girl.

"Put her in with Angel until Charles and I get this place cleaned-up." Emma started to steer Mystique out of her bedroom. She glanced over her shoulder at Erik, who remained in the doorway looking at the mess.

"He'll be back?" Mystique asked no one in particular.

"_Absolutely_." Erik smiled confidently. "Just give him a little time." Mystique nodded and allowed Emma to direct her out of the room.

"Emma, Azazel will be back, right?"

"Come on, let's go Mystique. You need rest." Mystique nodded, but it didn't escape her notice that Emma wouldn't look her in the eye when she answered.

* * *

><p>"Ms. Darkhölme?" Mystique's perky blonde curls bounced as she glanced up at the middle-aged receptionist.<p>

"Yes?"

"The doctor will see you now. Please follow me." The woman held the door open wide for Mystique to follow. She smiled nervously and put down the magazine she had been absentmindedly flipping through. Grabbing her handbag, Mystique smoothed down her skirt as she stood to follow the receptionist. It had been a long time since she wore real clothing, but it took all of her concentration to maintain her temporary human features. On the outside, she looked perfect; on the inside, Mystique was trembling like a leaf in a storm.

Azazel hadn't come back the night he found out about the baby, or the following day. Mystique tried her best to wait patiently, but with each passing day, she sunk further into despair. Every sudden noise made her jump and look around to see if Azazel had reappeared. Even Angel's excitement for the baby hadn't lifted her spirits; Mystique had even asked Emma for help talking to Azazel, but the white mutant shook her head and told her that Azazel had blocked both her and Charles from contacting him. On the morning of the sixth day, after loosing too much sleep, Mystique had made up her mind. She woke before anyone else, dressed quietly in her old clothing and putting on Raven's pretty blond face, she slipped out of the mansion unnoticed. As she followed the receptionist from the lobby of the back-alley office, Mystique bit her lip and fought the urge to cry. She hadn't planned this pregnancy, and neither did Azazel; what right did they have being parents? What child would want to grow-up constantly in danger, and hated for what they were? It wasn't fair to her, it wasn't fair to Azazel, and it certainly wasn't fair to the baby. Mystique tried not to think about what she was doing as she entered the doctor's office and saw the table prepped with surgical instruments.

_This is for the best, _she reminded herself, even though it felt like the worst decision she had ever made. _  
><em>


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

"You're going to feel some pressure." Mystique winched as the doctor inserted the speculum. The paper drapery itched her legs, and the metal table felt like a slab of ice against her back. The air in the doctor's backroom was stifling, and even though her breathing was steady, she felt as if she was suffocating. After a few moments of examination, the doctor sat back and looked at her over the drapery.

"Well, you appear to be about nine weeks along." The doctor's face was masked, but his periwinkle eyes were kind and gentle. Something about his eyes reminded Mystique of Charles, and she found comfort in this familiarity. The doctor continued, "this will make the procedure much faster, and easier on you during recovery."

Mystique nodded and clasped her hands just under her beasts, exhaling slowly as she returned her concentration to the florescent lights in the ceiling. The doctor spoke quietly to the attending nurse, who nodded and handed him a large metal instrument. He turned back to Mystique and smiled reassuringly, placing his hand lightly on her foot in the stirrup.

"This _will_ hurt, but only for a few moments. I'll go slowly to minimize the discomfort you will feel. Afterwards, it's quite normal to bleed for up to 48 hours while your body purges out any remaining tissues. Your normal menstruation cycle should start again in about three months."

"Okay."

"I'm going to count to three, then I will insert the needle and we'll begin the procedure."

"…_okay_."

"_One_."

Mystique squeezed her eyes shut. She tried not to think about what she was doing. It had been a hard enough decision to make, but this child deserved better. _He deserves a chance, and I can't give this to him, not with my life_. She frowned at the thought. For the last few days, she had avoided thinking about the baby in terms of _he_ or _she_, or giving it any kind of persona. Having an identity would have made it too hard for her to go through with this. Most of all, she tried to not to think about who the baby would _look_ like, but the more she dwelt on it, the more often she caught herself imagining she was carrying a boy and he'd resemble his father. Mystique bit her lip as a wave of sadness washed over her. She missed Azazel terribly, and wondered if her ideas about the baby were just wishful thinking on her part.

"_Two_."

_Nine weeks_…Mystique furrowed her brow, chasing a memory of something she had once read. _What did that book Moira bring me say about nine weeks_? She tried to recall the paragraphs and images she had seen. By now, the baby would fully formed fingers and toes, and the heart would be divided into four chambers. The baby's hearts starts beating around nine weeks…a cold knot formed in her stomach_. _She was suddenly stuck with how much she missed listening to Azazel's heartbeat when they lay together at night. _The little heart beating inside me deserves better than this_. Mystique's eyes shot open, the florescent lights blurring her vision. For a second, she felt as if she was underwater, drowning by the weight of her decision. _What makes what I am doing to my baby any different than what my parents tried to do to me?_

"_Three."_

"I can't do this." Mystique sat-up so fast that her knee accidentally knocked the needle out of the doctor's hand before he could insert it. As the nurse scrambled to retrieve the tool, the doctor began to rise, holding his hands out wide in a calming fashion. Ignoring him, Mystique pulled the speculum out and threw it to the floor. She swung her legs to the side of the exam table, tearing the paper drapery from her body.

"Ms. Darkhölme…?"

"_I'm sorry but I have to go right now_." In a panic, Mystique slid off the exam table and stumbled forward, pulling her skirt down as quickly as she could. She grabbed her handbag and coat from the nearby chair and bolted out of the room as the doctor called out after her. She ran through the hallway and into the lobby, desperate to escape the suffocating office air. She spied the sliver of light that was the front door of the clinic and dashed toward it. Once outside, Mystique ran.

She ran blindly for at least a mile, brushing roughly into city commuters and racing across streets without waiting for streetlights. She ran until her lungs felt like they were going to burst. It was a miracle she wasn't hit by a car or bus in her mad dash away from the doctor's office. Eventually, exhaustion took over and her legs slowed until she could only limp. After a few blocks, she dragged her numb body into a nearby alleyway. She stumbled towards the dumpster and bracing herself against it, unzipped her coat and gulped the frigid air wildly, trembling all over. A hot sweat drenched her from the run, and the rush of cold air made her dizzy. A sudden nausea overcame her and Mystique fell to her knees next to a dumpster, heaving until she felt like her body had turned itself inside out. After regaining her breath, she crawled on her hands and knees away from where she had gotten sick and sat hard on the ground, her back against the building wall. She ran her fingers through her hair to try and calm herself. As she did, she saw that her hands were still shaking and worse, dark blue. She stared at her fingers in shock for a few seconds before frowning hard and balling her hands into fists. Somewhere along the way, she had lost control over her skin. Mystique wondered if and how many people she had exposed her mutation to. She stood up and wobbled across the alleyway until she was immersed in the darkest shadows. She took several deep breaths and concentrated, shifting her skin back into Raven. She down looked at her feet. Sometime during her run she broke a heel off her shoe, and it dangled loosely. Her still raced in her chest. _I wonder if the baby's heart is racing too_.

"I'm _so_ _sorry_," Mystique choked out loud. She pulled her knees to her chest and looked down at her stomach. Despite coming _so close_ to terminating the pregnancy, Mystique now wanted to give this baby a chance, even if Azazel wasn't around. "I'm _so sorry_. I promise I'll _never_ do anything to hurt you again, little one." She put her hand on her stomach. If the baby was listening, she would have no way of knowing. Mystique felt her eyes burn as she screwed up her face. She vaguely wondered if, after all she's been through, the baby would even _believe_ her. At this thought, she buried her face in her hands and cried until her throat was raw.

* * *

><p>The mansion loomed ominously at the top of the driveway. Mystique shivered and pulled her coat tighter. Snow had started to fall, and she hoped it would provide her some cover to approach the house unnoticed. She had thrown her shoes away in the alley and walked home several miles barefoot, sticking to the back roads. Her clothing was soiled from sitting in the alley, and the hem had come loose from her skirt. She looked as terrible as she felt. Sighing, Mystique resumed her slow limp up the driveway, the pain from her twisted ankle shooting through her side. By now it is just shy of noon, and she was sure her absence had been noticed. She was terrified to face anyone and be forced to explain her disheveled appearance. Reaching the door, she hesitantly touched the doorknob, shifting her skin back to its natural indigo. Taking a deep breath, she twisted the knob.<p>

Silence.

Mystique peeked around the door and didn't see a single person. She let out a relieved sigh, and quickly entered the foyer, closing the door quietly behind her. The blue girl took a few steps forward and paused to listen. The stairs were right in front of her. All she had to do was get to her room and she could go back to bed and forget _everything_….she walked briskly to the stairs and began to ascend.

"_Raven_…what _happened_ to you?" Mystique looked around the foyer wildly for the source of the voice. As she combed the room, she saw a sneaker at the top of the bookshelf. Swallowing hard, she looked up at the sneaker's owner. Sean and Warren were sitting on top of two bookshelves, looking down at her with wide eyes. Despite knowing several mutants with flying abilities, she didn't even think to look _up_ when she entered the mansion.

"I…I…" Mystique fumbled, and gripped the banister hard. She steadied herself as a wave of panic washed over her. _I need to keep going. I need to be alone_.

"Mystique? What's going on here?" Emma now stood at the top of the staircase, her arms crossed as she regarding the blue mutant below her. Emma must have sensed the panic in the foyer and come out to investigate. The white mutant crinkled her nose in distaste at Mystique's appearance.

Mystique ignored her teammate and instead turned her gaze to her feet. _One foot in front of the other._ _I need to keep going. I need to be alone_. Mystique's bottom lip started trembling. It took every fiber of her being to keep walking up the stairs. Everyone was staring at her, bewildered and waiting for an explanation. She burned with shame and she was exhausted both physically and emotionally from her morning. Before she knew it, Mystique lost her grip on the banister and collapsed on the stairs. Emma rushed down the stairs two at a time, grabbing Mystique and supporting her by the shoulders.

"What _happened_?"

"I saw…I saw….a _doctor_." Mystique started crying again, the memory of what she almost did rushing through her mind uncontrolled. She regarded Emma with tear-streaked eyes. The white mutant shook her head as if she didn't understand. "I saw a doctor," Mystique choked out in between sobs, "…I saw a doctor…_about the baby_." Emma narrowed her eyes and Mystique felt her mind being read. Emma's eyes went wide in shock and she stopped reading abruptly, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Did you…you _didn't_…?" Emma's cerulean eyes bore into Mystique's amber ones. For a second, Mystique swore she saw a glint of fear in Emma's eyes. She shook her head wildly.

"I _couldn't_. I _couldn't_ do it. I _tried_ but I just…" Mystique looked up at her teammate and grabbed Emma's shirt, holding on to her as if she was an anchor in a storm. "Emma, he has a _heartbeat_!" Frowning, Emma wrapped her arms around Mystique as the blue girl rambled on in the nonsense of a panicking person. The scene soon attracted the attention of several more mutants, including Angel, who flew up to where Emma and Mystique were seated on the stairs.

"Oh my _god_, what happened to her?" Angel reached out and put her hand on Mystique's shoulder, fingering the dirty blouse she still wore.

"Help me get her somewhere private." Angel gently pulled Mystique away from Emma.

"Where should…?"

"Put her in my room." The winged girl nodded and helped her friend stand and walk up the stairs. A few other mutants started forward, but Emma turned around and blocked the stairs, her hands on her hips. She looked calculatingly at the younger crowd and then threw out her hands, freezing everyone into place.

"You didn't see _anything_." Emma narrowed her eyes at each of the onlookers. "As a matter of fact, you were all in the media room watching a movie. Together. Go. _Now_." The small crowd appeared dazed and slowly wandered away from the stairs. Emma smirked and turned around, rushing up the stairs toward her room.

* * *

><p>Mystique was lying in Emma's bed facing the ceiling. Angel sat next to her, holding her hand and rubbing her arm in a soothing gesture. She had helped Mystique take off her destroyed clothing, and the blue mutant was back in her natural form. Emma sat a few feet away in a chair facing the girls, tapping her fingernails together rhythmically. She had a pensive look on her face, but had not said a word since joining them twenty minutes ago.<p>

"I _couldn't_ do it. I _couldn't_ do it. I _couldn't_…" Mystique periodically repeated herself like a mantra.

"Shhh, I know you couldn't do it, babe." Angel brushed back Mystique's hair as she comforted her friend. "It's _alright_. No one is going to make you do anything you don't want to do." Mystique whimpered and rolled on her side, curling up in the fetal position. By now, both women knew what Mystique's plan had been that morning. If they judged her for it, neither breathed a word.

"I thought," Mystique glanced up at Angel, "I thought that if the baby wasn't a _problem_ anymore, then everything would go back to _normal_. That Azazel would come back and things would be like they were _before_." At Mystique's statement, Emma looked at the ground and frowned.

"But I just…I just _couldn't_." Mystique swallowed hard. "I started thinking about who the baby would look like, and how he had a heartbeat, and how unfair it was…" Mystique shook her head. "He didn't _ask_ to be conceived, just like none of us _asked_ to be born this way, and I…I _couldn't_ do it." Angel nodded and Mystique closed her eyes. It all seemed like a surreal nightmare.

"It's okay, Mysty," Angel squeezed her hand. "Who really can do something like that?"

"I did, once." Emma's voice was barely an octave above a whisper when she spoke. The white mutant was sitting very still, her down turned eyes glued to her hands as she folded them neatly in her lap. For a moment, Mystique thought Emma had spoken to her telepathically, but when she looked at Angel, the winged girl was staring at the white mutant in surprise.

"_Emma_?"

"It was a long time ago." When Emma finally looked up, Mystique was shocked to see her eyes glistening. The only time she ever seen Emma cry was the day Mystique had convinced Azazel to take her to see Charles. She remembered Emma slapping the red mutant and then sobbing in the kitchen as he tried to comfort her. Emma reached over to her bedside table and fished out a pack of cigarettes. Her manicured fingers slid one out and she tossed the pack back onto the stand. She lit the cigarette and took a few drags, gazing absentmindedly out the window. Silence hung in the air like the blue tinted smoke that floated delicately around Emma. Mystique could see the cigarette shaking her slender fingers. After a long while, Emma turned to look at the two girls on the bed. The whites of her eyes were a raw pink.

"Sebastian and I…" Emma paused, taking a long drag. "Well, we weren't _planning_ on it. No one ever _really_ plans on it happening." She looked at Mystique and smirked weakly. "I found out when one day when I could suddenly _feel_ the baby communicating with me, just like I felt your baby when I sat next to you. I think I was only a few weeks along when I first felt it. It was…well, it was the most _interesting_ experience I've had with my mutation." Emma smiled at the memory. "I loved listening to her thoughts. I loved knowing that she was a part of Sebastian that would always be mine. And she loved me back." She suddenly sobered-up and frowning, looked back down at her hands.

"He…_Sebastian_…he didn't want children." This last part she said as a whisper. Tears were now streaming silently down her ivory cheeks. "I thought maybe he'd warm-up to the idea but he was adamant. When I told him the _news_, he made me an appointment to see a doctor who would '_take care of it_.' By that time, I was three months along." She paused to wipe her tears on the back of her hand. Mystique started at Emma with an open mouth while Angel dabbed the corner of her eyes with her sleeve.

"I fell asleep, and when I woke up, I couldn't _feel_ her anymore." Emma looked away from the bed. Mystique put her hand over her mouth. Three months of communication with the baby followed by the silence of knowing she was dead would have been devastating to the telepath. Mystique couldn't begin to imagine the pain Emma experienced.

"Sebastian was gone when I returned home to the yacht. No one else on the team knew the truth behind why I had left for the day. I felt ill shortly after returning and I retired early that evening. The _doctor_," Emma gritted her teeth and ashed her cigarette roughly, "he should have been called a _butcher_ – he didn't do the operation right. There were…_complications_." She paused her to collect her thoughts. "I don't remember much. I remember waking up covered in blood and feeling very weak, and then trying to walk to the bathroom. I must have passed out in the hallway, because that's where Azazel found me."

"Azazel _found_ you?" Angel swallowed.

"Yes." Emma looked right at Mystique. "Azazel was on guard duty that night on the yacht. Janos was away with Sebastian at some political party. I don't know _what_ I would have done if Azazel hadn't found me and transported me to an emergency room. I still don't even know how he did it without being seen." Emma made a bitter face and took a drag from her cigarette. "Anyways…they fixed me up but the damage was already done. When they discharged me, Azazel took care of me until Sebastian returned. Things were never the same after that, no matter what he had promised." She looked away from the girls, back out the window. She wiped the few remaining tears from her face. "I can't have children, anymore."

Mystique's heart ached as her teammate's words sunk in. She never would have pinned Emma for someone who wanted a child, but until she found herself with Azazel, Mystique never wanted a family of her own. Emma loved Sebastian, and she loved their baby she carried. She gave-up her baby for the man she loved, but in the end, it didn't matter. Emma had killed the one part of Sebastian that truly loved her, and she could never take that back. Mystique put her hand on her stomach and looked at Emma for a long time. No wonder why Emma was so dedicated to Azazel; when Sebastian abandoned her, Azazel stayed. Mystique silently vowed to name Emma as her child's godmother when she had the baby. As if a cue, Emma smiled slightly and turned to face Mystique.

"There are few things I know for certain in the world, but one of them is this: Azazel _loves_ you Mystique." Emma smiled softly. "He _loves_ you and he _will_ love this child."

"But he _left _us_._"

"He'll come _back_."

"But what if…"

"If he doesn't want to be a dad, then screw him!" Angel hugged Mystique tightly. "We'll raise the baby _together_, and we'll be a _kickass_ team." Mystique laughed through her tears. Emma smiled at Angel's words, but did not join in their display of affection. After she released Mystique, Angel faced Emma.

"Sebastian _never_ told me about you." Angel held Emma's gaze steady. "I wouldn't have slept with him if I knew he left you in prison like that. I'm really sorry."

Emma regarded Angel coolly for a long while before looking down at her hands and nodding.

* * *

><p>Later that night, Mystique stirred in bed. Something familiar had roused her from her slumber. After a few seconds, she could smell the light scent of sulfur in the air. Before she even opened her eyes, she knew.<p>

"Azazel?"

"_Da_." Mystique sat up quickly and reaching over, flipped on the nightstand lamp. There, sitting next to their bed, was Azazel. Mystique stared at him for a few seconds, taking the scene in. There were so many things she wanted to do when she saw him - laugh, cry, scream - she was relieved and happy and angry all at once that she was silenced, and could only sit and stare at the mutant before her. He held her gaze steady, his elbows on his knees and his body pitched slightly forward. He was sitting perfectly still, returning her gaze exactly.

For being gone for well over a week, he looked well; Mystique noticed immediately that he is no longer wearing Erik's old clothing but rather he was wearing this traditional tailored black suit. His hair was slicked back and he looked overall well kept. _Almost like he's dressed-up_…in one hand, Mystique spied a small gray box. Azazel followed her gaze to the box and immediately sat up very straight. In an almost ceremonious manner, he opened the box and thrust it in her direction. Mystique recoiled slightly from the quickness of his gesture.

"What's this?" She leaned forward to get a better look. Light from the nightstand lamp illuminated the fire in the diamond which sat on top of a small, delicate ring. _It's almost as if_…

"_Azazel_!" Mystique sat back suddenly, her hands covering her mouth. "Are you…is this a _proposal_? Are you _proposing_ to me?" The red mutant nods his head and smiles.

"We should do this right way." Mystique stared at him dumbfounded, her hands over her mouth and her eyes wide. After a moment, the smile slid from Azazel's face and he began to look confused and nervous. He bit his lip and looked down for a second, then suddenly, snapped his fingers and teleported. When he reappeared a second later, he was on the other side of the bed on one knee, holding the ring up to Mystique. She spun around and continued to start at him.

"This is more traditional, _da_?" Mystique raised and eyebrow. After a few seconds, Azazel shrugged. "Um…say you will?"

"Azazel, we _can't_ get married!" Mystique pulls her hair back nervously. "You're not even an _American_ citizen!" As soon as the statement tumbles from her lips, Mystique realizes just how dumb her reasoning sounded. Azazel looks at her bewildered, his mouth agape. She put her hand to her forehead and shook her head. "That's not what I meant. What I mean is, this isn't something we should just _rush_ into. You've been _gone_. I was worried _sick_. You can't just come back and..."

"Do you…do you _nyet_ want this? Want _us_?" Still holding the ring box, Azazel stood up. "I was stupid to leave, and I would not do again if I could go back." He looked at the chair then at the bed, unsure of where he should be. Finally, he sat on the edge of the bed, facing Mystique. He put the ring box in front of her. "Do you not want to be with me now?"

"No, it's just…this is moving too _fast_. It's all so much to handle. I need time to think." Mystique pushed the ring box back towards Azazel. He looked defeated as he took it and placed it on the nightstand. They sat in an awkward silence for a few moments, neither mutant sure of what to do or say. Finally, Azazel broke the silence.

"_Please_," his voice sounded hallow and lost. There was an aching in it that Mystique had never heard before. "_Please_, tell me what you want me to _do_." Mystique looked at him and for the first time, she truly realized how scary this all must be for him. Azazel had lost a family before, and he didn't want to lose another one. The blue girl reached out and placed her hand over his. Azazel clutched it greedily, and when he looked at her, his pale eyes were shining.

"I want you to _keep_ doing what you've _been_ doing. A ring or a piece of paper isn't going to change what we have together." Azazel nodded and squeezed her hand. Mystique bit her lip.

"Azazel?"

"_Da_?"

"There's something I have to do before I can forgive you"

"Anything, _lubimaya_." Azazel sat up straight and looked eager. She had said the magic word - _forgive_ - which she was sure he was dreading she would never do.

"...You're _not_ going to like it."

"_Nyet_?" Azazel titled his head.

"No." Azazel opened his mouth to speak again but he was cut off suddenly when Mystique lunged forward and slapped him hard across his face. The red mutant reeled back, holding his left cheek and staring at his mate in a state of shock. Mystique jabbed a finger in his face.

"_That's_ for leaving me!" Mystique lowered her voice to a hiss, "and if you _ever_ dare leave me again like that, I am _never_ letting you come back. _Understood_?" Azazel continued to gap at her with wide eyes. Somehow, he managed to nod his head in agreement. Mystique sat back, her arms crossed in triumph.

"Good, now _that's_ settled...I've _missed_ you." Azazel wasted no time in pulling Mystique into a crushing hug. For a long time, all they did was sit in silence and hold each other. Mystique closed her eyes and listened to the rhythm of his breath and heartbeat. Later, after they've talked and official apologies have been made, Azazel and Mystique lay close together in their bed. Azazel ran his fingertips lightly down Mystique's side, hovering just above her hip. After a slight hesitation, he slid his hand down to her stomach just below her navel. She smiled and moved her hand over his and closed her eyes. As she drifted off to sleep, she heard Azazel's drowsy voice whisper:

"I _really_ hope it is boy."


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

In the morning, they made love. At first Azazel was hesitant, questioning Mystique several times if she was sure it was what she wanted. Despite Mystique's positive reply, Azazel's touch was far gentler than ever before, as if her body had suddenly become delicate overnight. Mystique smiled inwardly at her partner's newfound, slightly awkward tenderness. The red mutant walked a thin line between fierce killer and dedicated lover; she wondered how fatherhood was going to shape his actions in the coming months.

Afterwards they lay for a long time facing each other and in hushed tones discussed their past week apart and their future with a child. As they talked, Azazel drifted the palm of his hand from Mystique's hip to her stomach. It was far too early in her pregnancy for him to feel anything – Mystique knew she wouldn't even show for another two months at least – but the gesture brought her a level of comfort she hadn't realized she craved until the brush of his fingertips trigger the diffusion of imaginary weight from her shoulders. Azazel seemed to be taking everything now in a cool stride that betrayed the heat of his first reaction. _Fire and ice indeed_, Mystique thought as she watched his tail twitch like a complacent cat.

"I am sorry I said those things to you." Regret flickered across Azazel's eyes as he regarded Mystique with a mixture of reserved awe and curiosity. "It was not right."

"Azazel, it's _alright_," Mystique brushed back a stray lock of hair from his brow. This was the third time Azazel apologized that morning. While it was nice to hear, it was making Mystique feel increasingly guiltier about her own behavior during her mate's absence. A lump formed in her throat when she thought about the doctor's office and what she _almost_ did. "We both said things we didn't mean. We were upset."

Azazel nodded and closed his eyes, leaning back into his pillow and letting out a long breath. He brought his hand up from her stomach and caught hers as she pulled away from his hair. Lacing his fingers in hers, he slowly ran his thumb across the ridges of her knuckles. After a moment, he turned to face her. "I want to ask," his icy gaze studying her seriously, "if the child is a boy…Kurt for his name?"

"_Kurt_?" Mystique raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"_Da_, Kurt. Father Daytolv's name. Without him…" Azazel furrowed his brows before shrugging. "Well, he is reason we survived." Mystique suddenly recalled the meadow and the first time she bested Azazel in a training fight. _Illya _Kurt_ Wagner, of course. _For a brief second, Mystique could feel the breeze on her skin, hear the birds in the trees, and taste Azazel's blood on her lips; she closed her eyes and imagined she could hear the little heart beating inside her_; how far have we come since that day?_ She hadn't thought too much about names given the turmoil of the last few weeks, but now that Azazel broached the subject…Mystique cleared her throat.

"Yes, Kurt for a boy; but if we have a girl…" Mystique bit her lip. "Maybe we could call her _Adriana_?" Azazel blinked rapidly a few times, processing her statement. He squeezed her hand a bit harder but did not utter a sound. Mystique swiftly backtracked, "…that is, if it's _alright_ with you." Azazel remained silent for a long moment before releasing Mystique's hand.

"Adri…," his voice broke and he looked down. After a few seconds, he nodded. "_Da_, I would like that very much." Azazel pulled Mystique to him tightly, and silence descended upon their conversation. She sighed, content to simply lay in the comfort of his arms.

* * *

><p>The bright light of early afternoon pooled through the window, making lakes of light on the bedroom floor. Mystique crinkled her nose as she felt a familiar itching in the back of her mind pulling her out of slumber. Sighing, she rolled over and stretched before sitting up and turned to face Azazel. The blue mutant knew Charles was alerting her that lunch was ready. Ever since she healed enough to move around the mansion, her brother wasted no time in reminding her that she had to take better care of herself for the sake of the baby's health. It irritated her sometimes that Charles considered her too reckless to figure that out on her own. Part of Mystique wondered how much of Charles's concern stemmed from Moira, as her brother's wife was constantly remaindering her that she was "<em>living for two<em>" now. At a recent dinner Mystique almost lashed out at Moira when the woman commented about Mystique's need to eat more vegetables, but when the blue girl opened her mouth to deliver a snarky remark, her tongue was silenced by Charles's telepathy.

_Raven, be civil._ Charles had raised an eyebrow at her across the table while the others, oblivious to the mental conversation, continued to clink silverware against their dishes. Dinners joined by Brotherhood members were tense enough without her starting a fight.

_Charles, I…_

_Look at her Raven. _Charles's eyes darted to his wife as she cut her food. _Please, just _look_ at her for before you speak_. Moira looked at Mystique and for a fleeting second, was Mystique saw a glimmer of sadness in Moira's face before she was able to brush it away. Charles released his sister's voice but Mystique found she suddenly had nothing to say. She excused herself from the table shortly thereafter, part of her stinging with guilt that Moira was only concerned for a baby she could never conceive herself.

Mystique sighed at the memory and put her hand on Azazel's chest, watching it rise and fall with his breath.

"Azazel?"

"_Lyuba_?" His voice was heavy with sleep.

"We should probably make an appearance at lunch, let everyone know you're back." Azazel grunted in reply and put his hand over hers, but made no other move.

"Azazel?"

"Getting up means putting clothes back on." Azazel quirked an eyebrow at Mystique and she smirked.

"You don't _have_ to; I'm sure if you showed up naked it would make even _more_ of an impression." Azazel laughed loudly at her remark. Mystique smiled. _He might be an ass sometimes, but _god_, it's good to have him back. _

* * *

><p>Despite wearing clothing, lunch was quite an affair. Mystique and Azazel appeared in the kitchen together, causing a chain reaction of shrieks. Only Charles seemed unsurprised by his return, taking in the scene sudden appearance of the mutants with dignity as Sean and Angel scrambled to clean up the upset plates. Mystique was surprised to see so many of the mansion's inhabitants sitting together in the kitchen; by the look of irritated concentration on Emma and Charles's faces, she gathered quickly that the two telepaths were working hard to keep the peace. Despite the two powerful mutants, Alex looked-up from his seat to occasionally glare at the Brotherhood members, and Hank was again absent from the table. Mystique frowned. Ever since the Brotherhood moved into the mansion, Hank seemed to have developed the ability to be invisible as well.<p>

After pulling out a chair for Mystique, Azazel sat next to Emma and wasted no time discussing plans with Erik. Angel prepared Mystique's food and immediately nodded towards Azazel and smiled. Mystique shook her head and put her finger to her lips, letting Angel know silently that she'd tell her everything later. The remaining Brotherhood members acted as if nothing was amiss, preferring to give their teammates privacy.

Afterwards as the various mutants disappeared from the kitchen, Mystique found herself alone with Sean and Jean clearing dishes. Erik, Azazel, and Emma left to scout out a new headquarters. Despite Charles's best efforts to reunite the teams, Mystique knew it was only a matter of time before their stay came to an end. Tensions were running high, and it was only a matter of time before another fight broke-out between the two sides. Sean and Jean chatted excitedly about the latest gossip, and Mystique listened idly to their banter while washing the glasses.

"…then I said, 'Ok, _fine_, I'll _knock_ first!' And that ended that argument." Sean held-up his hands and smiled triumphantly as he finished his story. Jean clamped her hands over her mouth as she squealed in laughter.

"Sometimes I swear it's like Hank's your brother," Jean snickered. "Only not through blood."

"Yeah, well, he's more related to Raven over here," Sean nodded at the blue girl, "through blood." Mystique looked up sharply at the sound of her human name.

"What do you mean by that?" Sean met Mystique's stare with surprise followed by a flush of embarrassment.

"Well, I mean Rave, you know…" his voice trailed off and he looked at his feet. Mystique narrowed her eyes.

"No I don't know '_what you mean_,'" she crossed her arms, soapy water dripping down to the floor.

"Raven, that whole cure thing…"

"That wasn't _my_ fault!" Mystique hissed. Jean took a step back, her eyes wide and her smile falling away at Mystique's sudden outburst. Mystique took a deep break and calmed herself. The last thing she needed was Jean to get worked-up and lose control over her mutation. "Sean, Hank shot himself up with that… that _cure_ or whatever he called it. I gave him some blood to study for it, but I never told him to do it. I didn't _want_ him to do it." Sean furrowed his brow and shook his head.

"No, it's not that at all. You…you don't remember, do you?"

"Remember _what_?"

"The blood transfusion?" Mystique raised an eyebrow and titled her head. _Where is he going with this?_

"When red dude brought you here, you were a real mess. You were torn right up and bleeding so much…" Sean shook his head at the memory. "We were having dinner and he just showed-up in the middle of the room holding you and he had this sword and was yelling in some other language...I mean, we had _no idea_. We thought he might have…" Sean looked pleadingly at Mystique. "It looked bad." Mystique could only imagine what it must have looked like for Azazel to appear unannounced, brandishing a sword with her severely wounded in his arms. She was suddenly never so happy to have a telepath for a brother.

"Go on."

"Right, like I said, you were torn right up. We put you on the table and Hank and Charles tried to help but you were losing blood faster than they could stop it, even with your healing abilities. There was a moment when we thought we'd lose you for sure, then Hank suggested the transfusion. Red dude practically ripped off his shirt offering his blood but he wasn't a match. But then Hank got this look on his face…" Sean shrugged. "I guess because of that cure, you and Hank are _perfect_ matches. Hank gave blood until he passed out. It was just barely enough, but it worked."

"I didn't…" Mystique swallowed and felt dizzy. She put her hand on the counter behind her to brace herself. "I didn't know that."

"Yeah, well, that's that." Sean nodded. "You might…I dunno, you might want to thank him or something."

"Hank doesn't want to see me."

"Yes he does Mystique." Mystique spun around at the timid sound of Jean's voice. For a second, Mystique had forgotten that she was even in the room.

"How do you…?" Jean interrupted by smiling shyly and tapping on her temple. _That's right, she's telepathic_. Mystique rubbed her arm and looked at the redheaded girl. Jean shrugged. "He's usually in the lab after dinnertime, and late at night. Just…if you wanted to know."

"Yeah, but _knock_ first if you go. Trust me." Sean offered Mystique a weak smile. Mystique turned back to wash the dishes in silence while she thought about what to do.

* * *

><p>Mystique walked slowly and as silent as a prowling cat. The held the tray in front of her carefully so it didn't rock, and was slightly impressed with how good she was getting at sneaking down dark hallways. She had waited until it was late and most of the mansion's inhabitants were asleep – including Azazel - as she wanted privacy for her midnight mission. Mystique paused in front of her destination – a large white door that read "LAB" – and took several deep breaths. She hoped her racing heart wasn't audible beyond her own ears. Collecting her courage, she swallowed and pushed the door open.<p>

"Sean, _seriously._ How many times…?" Hank's voice fell when he turned from the microscope and faced Mystique. As he started at her in silence, his mouth hung open and revealing a pair of pearl fangs. In a flash, a glass slide accidentally crunched in Hank's claws and broken bits fell to the floor. Swearing under his breath, he bend down quickly to retrieve the broken shards. As she watched Hank scramble to clean the mess, she realized it was the first time she ever really studied his mutation. Everything had happened so fast that last day on the beach she never really got to really look at him past the superficial changes. Mystique was surprised to notice the faint stripes in his fur, the marbles of blue that painted his skin. He was bigger now, a full body of muscles and raw animal power, but underneath it there was still a delicacy, and uncertainty of how to interact with the world around him. Somehow his cure unleashed the full potential of his mutation, but he was still very much a lion without a roar. When Hank looked back up at her, she noticed that his eyes were the same amber as hers. Mystique wondered if that was a coincidence or a curse. She swallowed and forced a smile.

"Hi."

"What are you doing _here_?" He looked at her mistrusting. She was hurt by the tone in his voice but tried her best to brush it away. She held up the tray as a peace offering.

"I brought you hot cocoa and Oreos." Hank looked at her suspiciously, ignoring the tray.

"Raven, I…"

"What are you working on now?" Mystique ignored Hank's reaction and walked toward him. She placed the tray on the counter and turned to look at the microscope. Hank scowled.

"It's nothing."

"_Un-huh_. That's what you _always_ say." Mystique looked into the microscope and Hank fidgeted next to her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw how uncomfortable he looked. "What am I looking at?"

"Cellular division with X-genes. I'm trying to map out patterns of mutation emergence." Hank sighed when Mystique straighten-up and faced him. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to thank you." Mystique took a seat on the chair behind her and faced Hank, who immediately started moving objects around on the desk to avoid eye contact. His own nervousness was making it easier for her to be candid. "I wanted to thank you for the blood transfusion, and for helping when Azazel brought me here that night."

"Oh, I …" Hank nodded. After a hesitation, he met her gaze. "Yeah, sure. You're welcome. It was no big deal."

"No, it _was_ a big deal. Hank, you _saved_ my life." Rave smiled warmly. "Thank you." Hank nodded and smiled in return.

"So…you're, uh," he cleared his throat. "You're gonna be a mom, huh?"

"Yeah, crazy isn't it?" Mystique instinctively put her hand on her stomach. She laughed. "Me - a _mom_! I never though that would happen."

"Does he treat you alright?"

"Who?" Mystique raised an eyebrow. "Azazel?" Hank nodded. "Yeah, he treats me alright. Great, actually."

"He's always disappearing."

"That's what he does – he's a _teleporter_." Mystique tried to lighten the mood. She didn't like where the conversation was headed. Hank rolled his eyes.

"Raven, you _know_ what I mean."

"He loves me. I can't explain it, but he does, and yes we fight and sometimes he needs space, but at the end of it all he always comes back." The weight of Mystique's words hit her as she spoke them. Azazel had a way of talking that didn't require words, and together they had developed a language.

"I should have been better to you." Hank looked away from her for a few seconds, and Mystique reached out and put her hand gently over his. At her touch, Hank quickly turned to face her. Mystique frowned when she realized the leonine mutant was close to tears.

"I'm _so sorry_ Raven. Until _this_ happened," he motioned with his hands to his furry body, "I had not idea what you felt. What this is really like." Hank paused to catch a sob in his throat. "I should have been _better_." He swallowed and shook his head. "Maybe you wouldn't have left."

"Oh _Hank_…don't do this." Mystique's frown deepened. "It wasn't you. It was just...everything. I felt so trapped here. After the fight on the beach, I knew I had to take a different path. We all made hard choices that day."

Hank nodded but would not meet her gaze. She didn't feel that he believed her. Suddenly, Hank grabbed her hands tightly, his claws digging into her scales. Mystique jumped up from her chair at his suddenly gesture, her hands firmly held by his. He had a look in his eye betraying the wild nature of his mutation.

"Hank…?"

"I love you Raven. I always have."

"Hank, _no_…"

"_Yes_," Hank nodded his head as if that would clear matters up. "I've loved you from the moment I first laid eyes on you. The _real_ you, the _blue_ you," Hank added when Mystique opened her mouth to protest. Hank squeezed her hands tighter. His claws were starting to hurt, and his erratic behavior was frightening her. Mystique looked around her for a way out of the situation. "I couldn't see it then, but I know now. You're perfect Raven, you're perfect and I love you and…"

"You should not be out of bed so late, _devotchka_." Mystique turned suddenly at the sound of Azazel's voice. The red mutant looked coolly at her and Hank from the laboratory door. Hank stared at him and curled his lip into a silent snarl. Mystique took the opportunity to yank her hands out of Hank's and took a few steps away. In a blink of an eye, Azazel appeared next to her, his gaze never leaving Hank. Without taking his eyes off Hank's face, Azazel grabbed Mystique by the wrist. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his fingertips of his free hand brush the tip of his dagger. Despite her fear, she faced Hank and forced a smile.

"Hank, I just wanted to say hello, and thank you for the blood." A look of profound sadness flashed across the leonine mutant eyes. He uncurled his lip and took a step back. After a minute he nodded and turned his back to the pair.

The lab disappeared and was replaced by her bedroom walls. Mystique coughed as the smoke faded. Azazel dropped her wrist and slunk away, his tail lashing wildly behind him.

"What?"

"_What_?' He echoed back. Azazel stopped by the dresser and crossed his arms, tapping his fingers on his elbow and looking at her with a sour expression. _Oh, I can't believe this_. She looked at him puzzled before a smile grew on her face.

"Why Illya Wagner, are you _jealous_?" Azazel twitched at the sound of his human name as if bitten by a fly. He scowled and did not seem in the mood for her game.

"You need rest. You push yourself too much. Is not good for the baby."

"Yes, _mother_." Azazel narrowed his eyes muttered something in Russian. Mystique frowned. He knew how much that irritated her. "What did you say?" Azazel slammed his open hand on the dresser, making a noise loud enough to make Mystique jump. He was clearly frustrated.

"You should not be alone with _him_."

"You don't trust me."

"I do not trust _him_."

"Azazel, really I cannot believe you are jealous of Hank." Azazel held his hands out wide, motioning to the room surrounding them.

"You think I do not know I cannot give you these things? Security? Safety? House like this?" He motioned once more for emphasis. "With the baby coming, we need to make changes. There are only so many things I can change for you. I cannot give you these things." He crossed his arms again and looked at her defiantly.

"You think I _care_ about this stuff?" Mystique had dropped her voice to a whisper. She could see how deeply this issue bothered her mate. Azazel didn't response, but dropped his gaze. She walked across the room and stood in front of him.

"Look at me." Azazel hesitated, and then looked down into Mystique's eyes. She reached up and touched his face, tracing the scar along his cheek. He turned his head slightly into her hand.

"You think I'd rather be here or with Hank than with you?" Mystique shakes her head and grabs his arms, uncrossing them and inserting herself. "Azazel, I don't _care_ if we live in a castle or a house or in a box under the freeway for fuck's sake. I just want to be with you. We'll find a way. We did before, we'll do again." She pushed closer to him. "You and me. We'll find a way." Azazel buried his face in her hair and held her tightly.

"_Da_, we find."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: Happy Holidays!<em>


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

"We've leaving."

Mystique and Janos looked up from their chessboard and the playful chatter between Angel, Mort, and Rémy ceased at the commanding sound of Erik's voice. Azazel sat back on the piano bench, folding his hands calmly in his lap and letting the last played note dissipate in the air. All eyes of the Brotherhood focused on the doorway, where Erik and Emma stood authoritatively. Erik shifted his helmet under his arm, slightly flushed at his team's sudden silence and total attention. Emma crossed her arms and waited patiently. After a long pause with no further instructions, Angel cleared her throat.

"Leaving? Like, right _now_?"

"Should we start packing?" Janos asked. Mort stood as if to get ready to leave that instant, but Erik shook his head. He opened his mouth to continue but hesitated, seeming to rethink his action and finally motioned for Emma to step forward. For the briefest second, the white mutant looked surprised, but recovered quickly and uncrossed her arms to address the group.

"We'll need time to prepare the new space and stock rooms, as well as finish establishing telepathic barriers." Emma looked thoughtful for a moment then added, "two or three days should do it." The white mutant glanced at Erik, who nodded in approval. Mystique raised an eyebrow. She had noticed that of late, Erik had been differing to Emma with some leadership decisions. _Looks like he's finally learning to let us help him_. The battle at the old headquarters and the Brotherhood's responses to it seemed to give Erik more confidence in the independence and skills of his team.

"Azazel?" Before Erik finished saying his name, the red mutant reappeared just behind Emma. Erik laid his hand on Emma's shoulder as she took Azazel's hand.

"I still expect you all to be ready to depart at a moment's notice." With Erik's final words, the trio disappeared.

"How does he _always_ know where they're going?" Mort coughed and waved away the smoky air. Mystique bit her lip, staring intensely at the doorway where Erik had been. She knew they would all eventually leave the mansion – Azazel had even described the potential new headquarters to her in detail the other night - but she was still surprised to hear the announcement. She was also surprised to find that despite everything, part of her didn't _want_ to leave. While the two teams didn't see eye-to-eye on _how_ to fight for mutant rights, both sides were still trying to achieve a similar goal. Things had been fairly civil in the last few weeks, and she secretly hoped that after the attack on the Brotherhood's headquarters, Charles and his team would realize that all the mutants needed to be more proactive and take a stance instead of harboring at the mansion. _I wonder what Charles makes of all this_.

"Mysty?"

"Huh?" Mystique turned quickly towards Angel, distracted by her thoughts. The winged mutant looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Are you okay? You look...I dunno, worried." Mystique waved her hand casual in the air and smiled.

"Oh, I'm fine, I just…I just feel kinda _tired_, that's all." Mystique shrugged and patted her stomach. "Must be the baby. I should rest. Will you all excuse me?" The blue girl stood quickly before her friends could be further question her and trotted out of the room. She turned the corner from the parlor and strode down the hallway. Once she was a few rooms away and out of sight, she leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes, concentrating hard.

_Raven? _Charles's telepathic voice dripped with concern._ Is everything alright?_

_Yes, I'm fine; I just wanted to talk. Is this a bad time?_

_Not at all. Meet me in the study? _Mystique made her way to Charles's office. Her brother's familiar periwinkle eyes smiled as she slipped inside and closed the door quietly behind her. She stood with her back against the door for a moment, unsure of her intentions. Charles watched her patiently for a few moments.

"You know, you're rather quiet for someone who wanted to _talk_."

"Yeah, well…" Mystique shrugged. There were so many thoughts swirling around in her head that she didn't know what she wanted. "Old habits, I guess."

"Running to your big brother when you're not sure of what to do?" Mystique smiled meekly at Charles, who nodded and grinned boyishly. "I think I know what's troubling you. Erik told me you this afternoon that your team would be leaving in a few days. I, uh…I guess was hoping things would turn out _differently _after your time here_._" The smile fell from Charles's face. "I was hoping after these past weeks, he'd change his mind."

"You know Erik." While Mystique never doubted that Erik's intention to continue with his plans for the Brotherhood, she secretly hoped _Charles_ would change his mind and join her side. Together, Erik and Charles would be unstoppable.

"Raven, that's _not_ my path. You know that better than anyone else." Mystique frowned, and then looked sharply at Charles. He sighed and held his hand up apologetically for reading her thoughts uninvited. "I can't put my – my _students_ – at risk like that. They are still so young and learning...it's not right. It would be irresponsible of me. What happened at your headquarters…I cannot invite that to happen here at the mansion by provoking the powers that be."

"So what is your plan, then? Collect teenage mutants and hide them away so the world doesn't know who we are?

"First, the world _does_ know who we are, unless you've forgotten our little outing to Cuba." Charles rolled his eyes. "The problem is that the world simply isn't _ready_ for us – not just yet, and not until we can show the world that our mutations are just another step in evolution, and that we are not a threat to humanity. Please understand Raven - I'm not hiding mutants here; I'm preventing them from being harmed.."

"But we're _already_ being harmed! Do I have to remind you of the _Weapon X_ program I discovered? You remember what Moria said about it - super soldiers and genetic testing like we're animals!" Mystique's nostrils flared angrily and she threw her hands in the air. "Charles, they'll _kill_ most of us if they have the chance. They already tired in Cuba, even after we saved them, and I saw more orders to kill in those _damn_ files!"

"_Killing _humans an expecting to earn acceptance is _not_ the answer. Young mutants need to learn to control their abilities and accept themselves before they can expect humanity to accept us. I'm teaching them to do this. That's what this school I'm establishing is all about. We all have to hide for a little while as we establish things…"

"I'm tired of _hiding_. I don't want to hide who I am just because other people cannot accept how I look." Mystique crossed her arms and looked at the floor. Something had been digging at her for a long time and there was no stopping it from emerging. "…Charles, I don't want my baby to have to hide." Mystique looked up at her brother, her eyes stinging. She motioned to her body. "It's bad enough that I've looked like this as long as I can remember, and Azazel's always looked they way he has; he and I have had to hide out entire lives and made to feel ashamed for being born different. I can't even begin to imagine _what_ this baby will look like, but I know more than anything and I don't want it to have the same childhood as I did, or that Azazel did."

"Raven, your child is being born to parents who will accept him or her no matter _what_ the appearance – that alone must be _some_ comfort." Mystique wiped away a tear and nodded. One thing she held onto like a lifeboat in a wild sea was the fact that no matter what her baby looked like or what its mutation, she and Azazel would accept and love it as perfection. What hurt her the most was the thought that everyone else outside of the mutant community – the world at large – would reject it as a freak.

"You know you always have a place here." Charles looked earnestly at his sister. "I cannot shelter your team if they continue on their path of violence and destruction, but if you leave and you want a safe place for your child...I can give that to you."

"No," Mystique shook her head, "I…appreciate the offer, but really, you're just giving us another place to _hide_." Charles opened his mouth to protest but Mystique held up her hand, silencing him. "I'm leaving when the others do. I can't sit here and wait for things to change; I need to try and make them change."

"We are making things change Raven; just not in a way you're ready to accept." Charles sighed and rubbed his forehead. He eventually turned his back to Mystique and faced out the window overlooking the lawn. The track was still there, now overgrown with weeds. Mystique thought about the first time Hank raced past Charles while running on that same track. She remembered waving to him from the weight room as if it was yesterday. She wondered vaguely if Charles thought about that about that day as well, or the joy of running, something so simple but so impossible for him to ever do again.

"Charles," her brother glanced over his shoulder at the sound of his name. The room had been silent for a long time while the two siblings contemplated their paths and private thoughts. Mystique buried her face in her hands, feeling like she was holding back a scream. "When did things get so fucking complicated?" Charles smiled at her and shrugged.

"When were they ever not?"

* * *

><p>Mystique left Charles contemplating the lawn in his study, her mind clouded with the changes necessary to prepare for leaving the mansion. While she felt bittersweet about it, she was glad she had talked to Charles. As she passed the door to the kitchen on her way to the main stairs, she overheard snippets of a whispered conversation.<p>

"…you don't _have_ to go with them. The Professor would be more than happy to find a place for you here, especially with your talents."

"I don't know_, mon amie_. Is tempting but the others, they accept me like _famille_." Mystique recognized Rémy's voice and froze in mid-stride.

"They're _not_ family. The people here - the X-Men - we are a _real_ family. The Brotherhood turned their back on us and eventually, they'll do the same to you." _Alex, he's talking to Alex_. A white-hot rage shot through Mystique. She clenched her jaw and stormed into the kitchen.

"How _dare_ you!" Her voiced echoed like thunder in the small kitchen. Rémy jumped up from his seat and looked guilty as Mystique walked towards the table at which the two men were seated. Alex did not stir from his spot, but rather, he gave the blue girl a challenging look.

"Mystique! I _non_…" Rémy fumbled his speech. Mystique pointed past her teammate to Alex.

"Not you, _him_!" Her amber eyes were narrow and cold. "How _dare_ you talk about the Brotherhood like that! You've never even attempted to even _know_ us!"

"I'm just telling Rémy exactly what you all _did_." Alex's voice was calm and measured, as if he had been anticipating this conversation. He started back at Mystique with the same cold intensity she threw his way.

"We didn't abandoned you, we..." Mystique hissed, but was cut off.

"Oh, _really_?" Alex stood suddenly, faced Mystique as if preparing for battle. While they were near evenly matched in height, Alex's figure was larger and more menacing. Rémy was trapped between them, looking like he'd rather be inside a volcano than in the kitchen at that moment. "You and Erik didn't just turncoat and _run away_ with Shaw's team after Cuba? You didn't just _break_ Hank's heart and leave him when all he wanted to do was help you, like you _asked_ him too?" Alex clenched his fists, veins bulging out of his neck as he yelled at Mystique. "You didn't just _abandon_ your own brother lying half-dead on a beach after _everything_ he did for you you?"

"You have no right to talk about Charles to me. You. Have. No_. Right_." Mystique clenched her jaw but her voice wavered. She had no idea how badly Charles had been hurt on the beach that day; it wasn't until after she visited him at the mansion months before and saw his wheelchair that she fully understood what happened. Even then, she would have eventually left. Living with Charles had given her many things, but no matter how pretty a cage, the bird in it still sings behind bars.

"No, I do have a right, _Mystique_." Alex said her chosen name as if it had a foul taste.

"Why do you hate me so much?" Mystique crossed her arms and continued to stare down the blond mutant. "What did I do to you?"

"What did you...?" Alex looked at her dumbfounded. "What did you _do_? What _didn_'t you do!" Alex smashed his fist into the table, knocking several dishes to the floor and causing Rémy to jump in surprise, startled sparks shooting from his fingertips. Mystique held her ground, but her heart was beating wildly in her chest. So far Alex had manged to control his mutation, but she didn't know how long that would last.

"Alex, _mon amie_, stay calm…" Rémy held up his hands in a friendly gesture and stepped between the two mutants, keeping his back to Mystique. "Ain't no one here trying to hurt you." Mystique admired Rémy's cool thinking under pressure. _If there is one thing I will give him, he's one brave son-of-a-bitch. _Alex ignored the Cajun and continued to verbally attack Mystique._  
><em>

"_Christ_, do you even _remember_ Armando? Shaw _murdered_ him in front of us yet not a week later you run off with the _same_ villains who watched him die and did nothing?" Alex's nostrils flared, his face flushed red with anger. "You run around stirring up trouble and anger against mutants and you claim you're doing to it so we'll be accepted? That's _crazy_! All you're doing is _pissing_ everyone off and making us look like a danger to society! Charles is trying to change that – he's _trying_ to make the world safe for people like you and you just walk away from him when the going gets tough. You leave him to die because of a disagreement! He's the _only_ one who ever believed in the good in me, and you're his sister and you don't even care if he lives or dies!" Alex looked at her defiantly past Rémy. Mystique could see the wild rage in Alex's eyes, and suddenly, she understood: Charles had been the only one in Alex's life to give him a chance when the world gave up on him. His fierce loyalty to her brother made it impossible for him to even try and understand her and Erik's side.

"_Chere_, is…is dis true?" The Rémy looked bewildered at Mystique.

"No Rémy, it's not like he's telling it." Mystique shook her head. Rémy bit his lip and looked unsure. "It's…just _complicated_."

"No, it's simple: the Brotherhood is only out for themselves. Even after all Charles has given you here yet again, you and Erik are _abandoning_ him."

"That's _not_ true!"

"Gambit, you don't have to leave when they do." Alex looked at his new friend. "You have a choice, and you have a home here."

"He has a home with the Brotherhood!" Mystique yelled and threw her hands in the air.

"_What_ is going on in _my_ kitchen?" Moria stood in kitchen doorway holding a bag of groceries on her hip. Behind her stood Warren and Bobby, both holding additional bags. The two teens watched the scene warily.

"Yeah, he has a home with you." Alex eyed Mystique for a moment longer and then spat on the floor. "For now." With that he stormed out of the kitchen, knocking into Mystique's shoulder roughly as he passed her. Moria quickly handed her bag to Rémy and approached Mystique, putting her hand on the blue girl's shoulder.

"Are you…?"

"I'm _fine_." Mystique brushed Moria's hand away and exited the room before the occupants could see how not fine she actually was.

* * *

><p>"Emma told me about <em>her<em> baby." Mystique was kneeling in front of a box, packing the few items they were able to save from the destruction of the old headquarters as Azazel carefully wrapped his weapons for transport. Azazel nodded but did look at her or respond in any additional way. He began to polish a sword instead. Mystique got up and sat on the edge of their bed. She was still shaken from her confrontation with Alex a few hours earlier, and had retreated to her bedroom shortly thereafter to get away from it. She decided against telling Azazel about their fight; he already didn't care for the blond mutant, and since they were leaving she didn't see the point in stirring up trouble.

"Why did you never tell me about that?" Azazel's hand froze in mid polish for a second at her question. He shrugged, then flipped the sword over and began cleaning the hilt.

"Was not my story to tell." Mystique watched her lover work silently on his sword for a several moments. He kept polishing the same spot and did not acknowledge her gaze. She knew him well enough to realize that he was politely avoiding the subject. She sighed and laid back, draping her arm over her eyes to block out the light. Even after only just a short time of packing, the blue girl was feeling fatigued. She had read somewhere that exhaustion was a symptom in the early months of pregnancy. She really hoped the _entire_ pregnancy would not be like this. _I'll never be able to get anything done at this rate. _

"He would not come back to see her." Mystique slid her arm from her eyes and turned towards his voice. Azazel was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees and his hands holding the polishing cloth. The gleaming sword lay across his lap.

"What?" She propped herself up on her elbows.

"Sebastian would not come back to see Emma, even though he knew she was badly hurt." Azazel put his sword down and picked up another one. He set to work, cleaning it vigorously while he spoke. Mystique could see his anger as he polished. _I should piss him off whenever there are dishes to wash. _Mystique quirked an eyebrow at her observation_. On second thought, I've seen him break dishes when he's mad_. She wanted her baby to grow up knowing how to use a knife and fork. After a few moments, Azazel sighed and put his sword down.

"When I was a small one," he indicated with his hand the average height of a young child, "I found a bird lying on the floor of the forest. The bird's wing was torn and it could _nyet_ fly. I took the bird to Father Daytolv and asked him to make it better. He told me there as nothing we could do, but he let me keep it in a box and take care of it until it passed." Azazel paused for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. "The bird lived for two days. I buried it out in the churchyard during the night. That was the first time I learned about death. It was very hard. I cried for a long time because of that bird." Azazel looked at her thoughtfully for a few moments, his cool blue eyes piercing.

"The night I found Emma, she looked at me the same way the bird in the forest looked at me. That I remember very much." Azazel learned back and crossed his arms. "Emma I did not know well. She was…_Sebastian's_ woman. We did not often work together. When I found her, I did not know what was wrong at first. I saw blood, she said "hospital," so I did what I could. I took her to hospital, put her in empty room, and rang emergency call for nurse, disappearing when door opened. Am good at not being seen," Azazel smiled lightly at his comment, but quickly sobered. "I went to Sebastian after this, but he would not come back." Azazel frowned at the memory. "He said his business was too important, and told me to take care of it." Azazel looked in earnest at Mystique. "How can one do that? How do can one know someone they love is hurt, maybe dying, and not do anything?"

Mystique wrapped her arms around herself as she thought about Azazel's words. She couldn't imagine the pain Emma must have felt when her Sebastian didn't come for her.

"When Emma left the hospital," Azazel continued, "she talked much to me that week, and that is when I found we could talk using our heads, just like my mother and I. By week's end, knew each other like old friends." Azazel picked up another sword and began to clean it vigorously. "Emma loved Sebastian and wanted the baby. When he returned, she acted as if everything was fine, but it was not fine. Emma was very sad, and I never forgave Sebastian for it. _Never_." The red mutant stopped suddenly and looked at Mystique, his eyes hard and piercing. "I _never_ do this to you. Understand? We fight sometimes _da_, but I _never_ leave you. I always come back for you." Mystique nodded and he looked at her for a moment longer before continuing to polish his sword.

_Alex doesn't know what he's talking about_, she thought. _My place – my _home_ is with the Brotherhood_. She watched Azazel's reflection in the gleaming metal as he worked. The hue of his skin was a stain that would never be washed clean from the blade.

* * *

><p>Author's Note: I was happy to fit Alex in this chapter and explore him a bit more. I always felt that deep down inside, he was always grateful to Charles for believing in him when no one else did. It makes sense to me that Alex would be extra mad at Erik and Raven for leaving Charles so abruptly.<p> 


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

The jagged peaks of the distant mountains cut into the indigo sky like the fangs of a giant, untamed beast. There was crispness in the spring air, biting at Mystique's skin and forcing her to retreat deeper into the blanket wrapped loosely around her shoulders. While she couldn't yet see her breath, she could see the curling ribbons of steam rising from the mug next to her on the cabin's front porch. The black tea was strong, but it was a poor substitute for the coffee that she had so desperately craved. The blue girl sighed and leaned back, bracing her weight on her arm while she rubbed her stomach. The baby was restless, tossing and turning aimlessly as she scanned the horizon for any sign of the car's distant headlights.

"I know how you feel, buddy. Trust me, I _know_." Mystique patted where she felt the baby turning, wondering if the motion actually soothed him or only served to reassure herself. When he finally settled, she pulled the blanket tighter. The team should be back by now; Azazel had been diligent about bringing everyone home before dark, and never leaving Mystique alone for more than a few hours at a time. Mystique didn't mind the solitude of the Brotherhood's new headquarters; there was tranquility in the Montana wilderness that one could never find in the fast-past worlds of London, Las Vegas, or even Westchester. What she did mind was being left behind while her teammates continued to fight the Brotherhood's missions. Mystique sighed and closed her eyes, waiting. It was times like these she felt as trapped as baby growing inside her.

* * *

><p>It had been four months since the Brotherhood left the Xavier mansion. Erik had located a promising hideout in the Montana wilderness; a rustic two-story cabin, the heart of a failed tourist resort, on a wide swatch of private land. While it had been abandoned for over ten years, the cabin was in good shape, and it still maintained electricity and running water. It was also far from any of Shaw's former hideouts and the prying eyes of the government, allowing the group to resume their clandestine activities. During their last weeks in Charles's care, the Brotherhood had been preparing the cabin with necessities and readying it for their arrival.<p>

Their eventual departure from the mansion had been anti-climatic. Both Charles and Erik had arranged for the two teams to have a final dinner before the Brotherhood left; both he and Erik briefed their teams that politics were to be left aside for the night. Surprisingly, the last evening at the mansion was cordial, with both teams being respectful to the point of pleasant restraint. Anyone who remotely began a political rant found his or her tongue tied by a sharp look from Charles or Emma, and unable to speak for at least five full minutes.

After dinner the mood turned almost festive. Both teams retired to the main lounge, and while Charles' older students – the boys whom Mystique once called _friends_ – stood off to one side, talking and keeping a watchful eye on the Brotherhood, the younger students were much more socially engaging. As Mystique sipped her glass of tea, she watched the night unfold. Jean chatted excitedly with Emma, and although the white mutant wasn't exactly friendly, Mystique noticed that she smiled more freely and discarded her characteristic chilliness with the redheaded girl. When the two telepaths shared a laugh, for a brief second, the blue mutant wondered if part of Emma saw the child she never got to have in Jean. At this thought, Mystique frowned and looked away, feeling awash with guilt for ever having thought of giving up her own child. Across from Jean and Emma, the winged boy Warren was showing off his ability to fly as Angel and Sean debated which mutant's power of flight was superior. Angel squealed and capped her hands in delight at Warren's launch, much to Sean's ill-hidden dismay. Azazel sat next to Mystique with his hand on her knee, sipping a vodka and watching Warren gracefully rise to the ceiling with a look of intrigue. Mystique gently patted his hand. _Angels and demons_, Mystique thought – a clever guess at reading her mate's thoughts. Azazel's religious upbringing had come up in a recent conversation; he was convinced that the root for the Christian religion's mythological beings were derived in ancient mutants.

_It's nice to see everyone behaving for a change_, Mystique thought as she surveyed the room. Even Hank was present, talking with Alex at the far end of the room. Occasionally the leonine mutant would look in her direction, and once he even offered her an apologetic smile. Azazel's hand tightened slightly on her leg when Hank looked over, but otherwise the red mutant remained quiet. Eventually the younger mutants convinced everyone to play a board game, and it resulted in the two groups laughing and intermixing for a few hours of unexpected peace. Even Erik and Charles joined in their fun; for a heartbeat, it felt like old times again.

When Warren challenged Angel to a flying match outside, Mystique smiled at the bittersweet memory of the night at the CIA compound when all the mutants, young a shy, had first showed their mutations with one another other. After a protest from Sean to participate, Angel slipped her arm through Sean's, batting her eyes seductively. The ginger mutant swallowed hard and Mystique's hand clasped over her mouth, suppressed a smirk. She swore she could see little hearts flying around Sean as if he was a love-struck cartoon.

"Come on big boy. Let's see how your _wings_ match up against mine." As Angel dragged a bewildered Sean from the room, Angel looked back at Mystique and gave her an exaggerated wink and blew kisses. Azazel watched Angel leave with a clear look of disapproval on his face. Mystique put her hand over his, and he turned to face her. He was frowning.

"What?" Mystique raised her eyebrow.

"If our child is a girl, _she_," he motioned with a nod towards the doorway where Angel passed, "is _nyet_ allowed to babysit."

"Oh, come _on_," Mystique whispered, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "You know our daughter would be smart enough to at least go after someone like _Alex_." At that name, Azazel gave Mystique a hard look through narrowed his eyes. This time she couldn't suppress herself and giggled at her own joke. Azazel sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"She is _nyet_ allowed to date, then."

Eventually the time for departure arrived, and Erik called for his team to join him in the middle of the foyer. Erik shook Charles's hand and took his place in the doorway of the room. Erik formally thanked Charles's team for their hospitality for the last few weeks, and ever the gracious host, Charles responded by offering amnesty for any mutant who wished to pursue a different path towards equality.

"Everyone." At Eric's command, the Brotherhood stood to join their leader, and Mystique experienced _déjà vu_ to the choice she made on the beach that fateful day. One by one, the Brotherhood joined Erik, a few stopping only to shake hands with select X-Men along the way. Mystique was surprised when Rémy took a step forward, then hesitated, looking at Alex and Warren behind him. Alex raised an eyebrow at the Cajun mutant.

"Gambit?" Erik eyed the young man suspiciously.

"Magneto, I..." Rémy paused and looked at each of the Brotherhood members sadly. Mystique swallowed thickly. Since the fight in the kitchen, the blue girl had a sinking feeling she he had known where Rémy's true loyalties lay.

"Magneto…I be real _grateful_ for all you done for ol' Gambit. You take me in and treat me like _famille_, but since I been here with des' X-Men, I been thinkin'. This here Brotherhood is not the place for Rémy LeBeau. I think…I think I be happier here, work on controlling my _enchantment_."

Erik sucked a breath in-between clenched teeth and looked at Rémy in surprise. He opened his mouth as if to speak, and Mystique held her breath, glancing nervously at Emma while waiting for Erik to question Rémy for his choice. The white mutant's face was blank, but her eyes shown brightly with sadness. She was fond of Rémy, even if she would never admit it. After a long pause, Erik only nodded his head.

"So be it."

Erik motioned to Azazel, and in a heartbeat, the mansion vanished before Mystique's eyes. It would be the last time Mystique would ever call it her home.

* * *

><p>A soft explosion sounded to the left of the porch. Mystique smiled when the familiar smell of smoked reached her nose. Azazel, Mort, Emma and Angel stood a short distance away. She opened her eyes and stood to greet them.<p>

"Good timing," she waved as they approached. When the weather was fair, Azazel teleported to the porch instead of inside the lodge. The smaller size of the new headquarters (_cozy_, as Eric called it to Emma and Angel's eye rolls) meant that the lingering smell of smoke permeated the rooms. "The dinner should be just about ready." While the others walked into the lodge, Azazel walked up to Mystique. He touched her shoulder and kissed her on the cheek, then pulled her blanket wrap tighter around her.

"Is too cold to be out on porch waiting."

"Honestly, it's not _that_ cold out." She took Azazel's hand from her shoulder and kissed his fingers. "I was just waiting for Janos to come back. Hey, looks like there he is!" Mystique smiled and pointed to a distance pair of headlights at the end of the long driveway. Even once spotted, it would take the car a few minutes to reach the cabin. This distance was part of the allure of the new headquarters; there were to be surprise attacks were almost impossible. Azazel quickly turned towards the headlights, and a look of annoyance flashed across his face.

"He _left_ you?" Mystique rolled her eyes at the red mutant's words.

"He just went to town to get supplies." Azazel opened his mouth to protest but Mystique held up her hand. "Azazel, I'm _fine_. I can be alone for a few hours without the world ending. I'm not even due for another three months." Azazel frowned and twitched his tail.

"I could take him to city. He should have waited."

"He didn't want to bother you. Plus, he likes driving the car." Azazel scoffed at this statement. He didn't care much for driving, claiming it was a waste of time since he could teleport much faster. Angel once told Mystique that Azazel didn't like cars because he gets carsick. Mystique looked wistfully at the approaching car. Azazel raised an eyebrow.

"_Devotchka_?" Mystique turned her gaze away from the car and offered him a reassuring smile, waving her hand in dismissal.

"I'm fine."

"You are not fine. I _know_ your look." Azazel took her by the shoulders and turned her so she was facing him. By this time, the other teammates had disappeared far into the cabin, leaving them alone. Mystique sighed and looked away. S

"Azazel, I'm _bored_." She bit her lip and met the red mutant's icy eyes. "I'm bored sitting here day after day, watching everyone leave. I feel _useless_. I'm not good at anything right now except taking-up space and waiting."

"Is not true! Your cooking has improved very much. Is almost even edible now!" Azazel smirked at his own joke, but Mystique held his gaze. She was determined to get her point across.

"You _know_ what I mean." Azazel sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

"_Devotchka_, we talked about this. Once the child is here, you will be able to go out again. Until then, you must stay. Is safer for you, and for the baby."

"That's just it though; even after I have the baby, I'll still be left behind. I'll need to stay here to watch the baby."

"_Nyet_, others can help. Angel talks more about our child than anyone else. She will be happy to watch baby while we are on mission."

"But I'll have to feed the baby," Mystique was getting frustrated. "Only I can do that. You _know_ that."

"_Nyet_ true! Anyone can feed the baby."

"_How_?" Azazel thought for a moment then snapped his fingers.

"We can put milk in bottles." Mystique looked at him skeptically. Azazel sighed. "_Devotchka_, we find ways. We have entire team to help. You will not be stuck forever, only for a little while. Only until the child comes and you recover." Azazel touched her cheek softly. "Mystique, I promise you this."

As the blue girl met Azazel's gaze just as the team's car came to a full stop in the driveway. Janos stepped out triumphantly, smiling and hauling out a bag of groceries. The smile on his face slipped when he saw Azazel glaring at him from the front porch. He swallowed nervously and walked quickly through front door while Azazel's gaze followed him, burning into him. Mystique sighed and shook her head; she'd have to apologize to Janos later for her Azazel's overprotection.

"Come on, let's go inside." Mystique pulled he blanket around her. "It _is_ starting to get cold out here." Azazel smiled and motioned for Mystique to proceed into the cabin. "Besides," Mystique smiled at Azazel as she pushed the door open, "I made your favorite tonight – chili!"

"Oh…" Azazel smiled awkwardly. "Oh, _da_, good." Azazel looked suspiciously towards the kitchen. After a few seconds, Mystique burst into laughter.

"I'm kidding! Janos picked-up a few pizzas on his trip. Surprise!" Azazel let out a sigh of relief and joined Mystique in laughter. She might be a lioness on the battlefield, but she was the first to admit she was utterly hopeless in the kitchen.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Hello! Sorry I've been MIA for, well...ever :). I WILL finish this story. It might take me a few weeks, but I have the final chapters sketched out. Thank you for your patience and enjoying this story!<em>


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

_Present..._

Mystique plunged her hand into the warm, soapy water, feeling the sink bottom for the sponge. A mountain of dishes was stacked next to the sink, and she sighed in resignation as she took a dirty a bowl from the pile and began wiping it in a circular motion. While there were many things about the new headquarters she did enjoy, she would never stop missing the daily conveniences the Hellfire Club's hotel provided; namely, the dishwasher. Here in Montana, she _was_ the dishwasher, and the drudgery of cleaning the cabin for her six teammates was wearing on her. _Every little job helps us win battles_, Erik had said to her last night when she voiced her frustration feeling like the cook and maid instead of the warrior she was trained to be. She scowled at Erik's dismissal. _If every little job is so important, why doesn't he _ever_ offer to help with the dishes, laundry, or anything else around here_? The sharp crack of breaking glass interrupted her thoughts. Mystique froze and listened carefully to the room behind her.

"Sorry! That was me! I'll, uh…I'll go get the broom!" Mystique shook her head at Mort's most recent accident and returned to the dishes. _Nothing exciting happens around here anyways_, she mused. While the rest of the team was on a mission, Mort was assigned to "protect the headquarters" with Mystique. It was a subtle way of Azazel making sure Mystique was never left alone; Mystique supposed that at least Mort was pitching in to help clean.

As she scrubbed last night's dinner off the next plate, the baby became restless. She paused, bracing her weight on the countertop through the worst of the kicking. At seven month along, her son was proving to be quite energetic, and she was happy she only had 8 more weeks before his arrival. With any luck, she'd be back on missions in the next 4 months. Mystique she smiled and thought back to the moments she shared with her team throughout the last few months of her pregnancy…

* * *

><p><em>2 months prior...<em>

The blue mutant lay on the exam table, breathing calmly. Her entire body felt ridged and strained.

"Emma, I don't know how much _longer_ I can…"

"_Relax_, you're doing fine." The white mutant didn't even look up from the fashion magazine she flipped through. "Try counting backwards from 100."

Mystique returned her gaze to the ceiling, took a deep breath and swallowed. _99, 98, 97_…she flexed her hands and admired the perfectly manicured, flesh colored-fingers twisting in the air before her. She was 5 months along in her pregnancy, and waiting for her first ultrasound. It was Emma who had insisted on an ultrasound to see if the baby had any physical mutations, and it was also her idea to accompany Mystique to the hospital for her visit. If anything was amiss, Emma could wipe the doctor's mind and get Mystique out of the hospital before anyone was aware. It pained Mystique that Azazel couldn't be there for the procedure, but there was no way he could have participated without drawing considerable attention.

"Hello Ms. Wagner, Ms. Frost." The doctor stepped into the room holding Mystique's chart and nodded curtly at the two women. Mystique sat-up suddenly, her blond curls spilling over her shoulders, momentarily flashing auburn. Emma gave her a raised eyebrow sharply and mouthed "_calm down_," and Mystique took a deep breath, calming her nerves. It was much harder to control her mutation. Luckily, the doctor was busy studying her chart and did not notice the discrepancy.

"Hello Doctor Rothberg. Thank you _so much_ for taking time to fit my sister in to your busy schedule." Emma smiled sweetly at the man, who was clearly smitten with the blond beauty. Mystique smiled warmly at the doctor, and was ready to play the part of Emma's little sister Raven, whose husband was a US solider stationed in a foreign country. Mystique wore her old Raven skin, with minor tweaks to more closely resemble Emma's coloring and features. It took incredible concentration to maintain her look. She hoped the appointment wouldn't take too long.

"It's my pleasure, really. Anything to help our soldiers fighting abroad." Doctor Rothberg motioned to the exam table. "Ms. Wagner, let's have you lay back and we'll do a basic exam before the procedure." After a general exam and a few questions, the doctor began applying the gel for the ultrasound. The cold liquid made Mystique gasp, and Emma readied her fingers to her temple just in case she needed to block the doctor's mind from seeing anything amiss.

"Here we go now. Say, we're starting to get an image already!" Mystique turned toward the screen. In the fuzzy, murky black and green screen, a small, curled figure started to materialize on screen. She held her breath as the image of her unborn child appeared.

"Ah, here's the head, here's the arm, and…say, what's _this_?" As the doctor peered closer to the screen, Emma touched her temple.

"What's _what_, Doctor Rothberg? I only see a _normal_, healthy human child." The doctor looked at Emma, his eyes glazed over and a soft, dreamlike smile on his face.

"Yes, a _normal_, _healthy_ as can be!" A panicked look came over Mystique and she looked at Emma, and then back to the screen. Something was wrong. Her skin started to flicker between flesh tones and blue scales. The doctor looked at Mystique in shock.

"_Emma_?"

"Hold on," the white mutant closed her eyes, and suddenly the doctor slumped over, deep in sleep on the floor.

"There, he's asleep, and I've wiped his memory of you and the baby." Emma stood up and walked closer to the screen. "Let's have a look." Emma and studied the image with a look of concentration. She was quite for several minutes.

"Is my baby _Ok_?" Mystique was becoming alarmed.

"Mystique, I'm not a _doctor_." Emma rolled her eyes. After another moment, the white mutant tapped a perfectly manicured fingernail on the screen. "Here, look at this!"

Mystique squinted at the image. A white half circle ending in a spade point was wrapped around the baby. _It almost looked like_…Mystique gasped and clapped her hand over her mouth.

"Is that…?"

"We've got a tail!" Emma laughed, her eyes glittering. "I'm sure of it. That's what the doctor saw. Azazel will be thrilled with that."

"Can you see if it's a boy or a girl?" Mystique moved closer to the screen. Emma shook her head.

"No, I can't. We'll have the doctor look when he's awake; I'll just make sure he only looks for that."

"Are the baby's legs supposed to look like this?" Mystique frowned and looked hard at the ultrasound image. The baby's legs looked backwards, like an animal's legs. Emma tapped her finger on her lip and looked at the screen in silence before turning to the blue girl.

"I don't know." Mystique looked imploringly at Emma but the white mutant only shrugged. "This child is the product of two mutants. We can already see the baby has a tail, so it is feasibly it has other mutations. We'll just have to see what comes out. There's no point in worrying about it now. What we do know now is that the baby is growing and has a heartbeat, and we know that I'll have to be in the delivery room with you so the staff doesn't try to kill or take away a "deformed" baby. We'll have to wait to see the rest. " Emma smiled slyly. "Besides, the baby could even be purple for all we know."

Mystique smiled at the team's running joke about her baby's skin color. The blue girl marveled at the long way she had come with her teammate, and she was grateful for Emma's help with the doctor's visits. Mystique reached out and touched the ultrasound screen, running her fingers along her unborn baby's arms, feet, face and tail. It was the first time she could see her child, and she couldn't wait to tell Azazel what she saw.

"Wake up the doctor; I want to know if it's a boy or a girl!"

Azazel was waiting on the front porch for them as the two women drove up to the cabin. Mystique burst out of the car, clutching a print out photograph from the ultrasound. The red mutant rose and walked down the stairs to greet her.

"Well?" Azazel was looking intently at her, and Mystique couldn't hold back any longer. She thrust the ultrasound photo in Azazel's face.

"Look! It's a _boy_!"

Azazel took the photo and held it up to the sky. He smiled brightly, showing all of his teeth.

"A _boy_!" As he examined the photo, he narrowed his eyes, and then opened them wide in surprise. "And what a boy!"

"No, Azazel," Mystique laughed, taking the photo and turning it in the right direction. "That's his just his _tail_."

"Oh." Azazel cocked his head and looked at the photo again. Suddenly he looked at Mystique in surprise. "He has _tail_?" Mystique smiled and nodded. "He has tail! I have a tail!" Azazel picked-up Mystique and spun her around, kissing her deeply until the sound of a throat clearing caught their attention. As Mystique pulled away form Azazel, she saw Angel and Janos standing on the front porch, smirking at the couple.

"Well?" Angel sauntered over to Mystique, "are you going to share with the rest of the class?"

* * *

><p><em>1 month prior...<em>

One month after her ultrasound, Mystique was sitting in the living room studying automotive plans to figure out how to jumpstart a variety of cars. _Just because I can't go on a mission_, she thought as she flipped through the plans, _doesn't mean I should get rusty_. As she read, Azazel appeared in the doorway. He didn't say anything, nor did he enter the room. He just stood in the doorway, grinning wolfishly at her as she lay on the couch. Eventually, Mystique had put down her magazine and looked at him.

"Azazel, what?"

"I have _surprise_ for you."

"Which is?"

"Come, I _show_ you." Mystique raised her eyebrow at the red mutant, but he only smiled wider and motion with his hand for her to walk to him. She signed, swung her feet to the floor and pushed her way off the couch. In the last month, she felt like her belly had doubled in size, and walking tired her out easily. When she took Azazel's hand, the red mutant walked her into each room of the cabin; there was nothing.

"What is it..?" Mystique was starting to get annoyed. Her feet hurt, and her back hurt, and now, for some unknown reason, Azazel was taking her on some kind of tour of the rustic headquarters.

"Shhh…_listen_." Mystique held her breath and listened. She heard not one sound outside of the normal noises of the cabin settling and the surrounding wilderness.

"_What_? I don't hear _anything_." Azazel put his hands on Mystique's shoulders and turned her to face him. He leaded down, and kissed her softly. When he pulled away, he raised his eyebrow suggestively.

"_Da_, correct. No one is home but _us_." The realization hit Mystique and she smiled. Azazel pulled her close and started walking backwards to the direction of their bedroom, gently taking her with him. The smaller size of the new headquarters meant that privacy was a premium, and her pregnancy prevented her from teleporting without becoming nauseous.

"Wait, is this surprise for _me_ or for _you_?" Mystique asked playfully.

"Well," He started kissing her neck and swung the door to their room open with his tail. "Both I think." He started kissing her collarbone, his hands moving down her body. As much as Mystique hated being pregnant, she often thought Azazel liked her very much this way. He smiled and teased her for her clumsiness.

"Just be gentle." Azazel raised his hands in mock offence.

"What? I am always gentle."

"Yeah, that's why I had to hide a bite mark for _three days_ last time."

Afterwards, Mystique and Azazel lounged together in their bed. Azazel had his arms wrapped around her, his chip resting on her shoulder and his face buried in her hair. Mystique was sitting cross-legged in his lap, resting against him. She had both hands on her stomach. The eight of the baby was making her uncomfortable. She shifted and tried to find a more comfortable position.

"Ugh, he's kicking up a _storm_ right now."

"_Mmmm_?" Azazel responded dreamily.

"The baby. Here." She took one of Azazel's hands and placed it on her stomach. After a few seconds, Azazel laughed.

"A little _acrobat_!" Mystique rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, except I'm the trapeze. Not fun." Azazel put his fingers on her chin and turned her head until her amber eyes met his icy blue ones. He studied her face for a moment before speaking.

"_Devotchka_, we should have a talk, perhaps. I have been thinking…"

"Azazel, you know that's _dangerous_." Mystique smiled and Azazel playfully bit her ear before continuing.

"As I said, I was thinking, when the child is ready to come, we should maybe live with Margali for a time."

"Margali?" Mystique turned her body to face Azazel. She couldn't believe what he was saying. "You mean, we should leave the Brotherhood?"

"_Da_, I mean _nyet_. _Nyet_ forever, _Devotckha_." Azazel regarded Mystique for a few minutes. "We should maybe leave just until he is older. It wouldn't do so good to have him trapped inside all the time, especially…" Azazel trailed off and looked at Mystique imploringly. She knew what he was trying to express.

"…especially if our son looks like you, and can't change like me?" Mystique looked at her partner. He gave a sad smile and nodded.

"Especially. I do _nyet_ wish want him to be stuck inside like I was. Is not right, not fair." Mystique nodded. She understood where Azazel was coming from, but the thought of being away from the Brotherhood for years did not appeal to her. She put her hand over Azazel's and squeezed it tight.

"Well, we have no idea how he'll even look. He might look…_normal_ for all we know. Well, except for the tail, but if he looks human beyond that, we might be able to hide the tail…?"

"_Devotchka_, think on it. We have three months until he comes."

"Ok," Mystique settled down into her mate's arms once again. She wasn't happy with the idea, but she wondered if it would be the best for all parties involved.

* * *

><p><em>Present...<em>

Mystique shook her head and smiled at the memories of her early pregnancy. Suddenly, there was another soft crash in the living room.

"Mort?" Mystique called over her shoulder. _I bet he knocked something over again_, Mystique thought. In the tighter confines of the new headquarters, Mort's jumping mutation was always causing him to accidentally knock over furniture and other household items.

"_Mort_?" Mystique furrowed her brow and drew her hands from the sink. It wasn't like Mort to ignore her. _Maybe he didn't hear me?_ She grabbed the nearby dishtowel and wiped her hands dry and turned to face the door to the main room. She looked at the kitchen clock; it was only Noon. There was no way it was the team returning from their mission. She heard another soft crash followed by a dragging noise, as if someone was walking with a limp. An uneasy, tingling feeling started creeping up from the base of her neck.

Suddenly, Mort slammed into the kitchen the doorway, his body taking up the entirety of the frame. Mystique yelped in surprise and jumped back, hitting the kitchen counter behind her and sending a plate crashing to the floor. Mort looked at her with wide, wild eyes, grasping the doorframe with one hand as if it was the only thing rooting him to the earth. His other hand was clenched at his neck, and through his fingers, Mystique could see a shiny, silver dart. Her eyes widened in terror.

"Mysty, _ru_…_ru_…" Mort's lips trembled as if he couldn't catch his breath. Mystique took a step towards him, her hand reaching to pull the dart from his neck. With all the strength he could muster, Mort pushed her hand away and gasped, "…_RUN_!"

Mystique heard noises from the room behind Mort. He turned in the doorway to face the oncoming intruders, blocking their advance and giving the blue girl a chance to escape. Mystique took off towards the cabin's back doorway. She skidded past the dinning room table, instinctively grabbing the chairs and throwing them to the floor in her wake, creating obstacles for her pursuers. As she approached the back door, she saw a shadow of a figure on the other side of the curtains.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck_! Mystique thought hard and fast, scanning her environment. She could hear Mort struggling with the intruders in the kitchen, and she knew he couldn't hold them off for long. She turned left and darted for the back bedroom. If she could get out the window, there was a small ravine on the west side that she could follow until she reached the woods. If she could make it out of the cabin, she'd have a chance to collect her thoughts long enough to reach Emma. Once inside the bedroom she slammed the door behind her and locked it. It would buy her seconds at most, but it was better than nothing. She flew to the window and pried it open. As she looked out the window to the soft fall, she hesitated. _How can I do this_? In previous times, the blue mutant wouldn't have hesitated to launch her body through the window, but her body was no longer just hers. She put her hand on her seven-month pregnant belly and took a deep breath. _If I stay here, we're both dead; at least out there we have a chance_. She thought briefly about the best way to roll to avoid impacting her stomach when the bedroom door exploded into splinters. Mystique closed her eyes and dove through the open window.

For a second, she was overcome with the feeling of weightless flight, as if she was in a dream. The next second, she collided hard with the ground, rolling on her shoulder. After a few bounces, she came to a stop, panting and quickly scanning her body for injury. While her shoulder burned with pain, her legs and belly were spared impact. She scrambled to her feet and took off as fast as she could for the woods. She could not hear shouts and commotion behind her, emanating from the cabin.

As she ran, she concentrated hard and turned her body into that of a young blond woman; she figured they'd be looking for a blue mutant, not a random individual. She put her hand to hear head and concentrated hard. _Emma, please, please, hear me_! Mystique thought as hard as she could. She was almost to the tree line, if she could just make it there…

_Mystique_? She heard Emma's voice telepathically. _What's wrong_?

_Emma, we're under attack! The cabin, we need_…Mystique cried out as a cloaked figure appeared suddenly in front of her, blocking her escape. In her shock, she cried out and veered to avoid a collision. _Where did he come from_? Mystique hadn't seen even a shadow between her and the woods. _It's like he appeared out of thin air_…as she twisted her body, she saw a small, silver gun extend from the figure's cloaked hand. A sharp, stinging sensation pierced Mystique's arm. The blue mutant quickly ripped the dart from her arm, only to feel a sharp prick in her neck. Tears flooded Mystique's eyes at the pain. With in a few steps, she faltered, and then sank to her knees. She started crawling desperately towards the trees, knowing she was fighting a losing battle. The figure approached her as she fell on her side, gasping for breath.

_Emma_…Mystique thought feebly, her mind losing focus. The dark figure had reached her, and placing their boot on her shoulder, gently nudged Mystique until the mutant rolled onto her back. Mystique's breath was coming in shallow, painful gasps.

"Don't hurt…_please_." Mystique felt her skin shift back into her true colors. With her last ounce of strength, Mystique wrapped her arms around her stomach and peered into the hood of the cloak, pleading with the stranger. "Please. I'm _pregnant_." While she couldn't make out the figure's facial features, she could tell that he figure was taken aback by the sudden change of her form. For a second, a gloved hand extended down to Mystique's arm, touching her body gingerly, as if the figure couldn't believe what they were seeing. Mystique grabbed the gloved hand and squeezed it tightly. The figure jumped back, attempting to pull their hand away.

"_Please_." Two pale, crystal eyes shone from shadows of the hood, looking at Mystique with confusion, and a spark of curiosity.

_Mystique, we're coming_! Emma's voice sounded frantic.

Mystique's vision faded as the figure bend down over her and pulled something out from a bag the figure carried. A few seconds later, Mystique felt a cold rush of air and the sensation of falling, but she had no idea where, or if, she would land.

* * *

><p><em>AN: I wanted to post an exciting, action-filled chapter right away. I hope you enjoyed it!_


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

Mystique woke in darkness. She groaned, a gale-force headache pounding in her skull. She was lying on her side, and she could taste vomit in her mouth. The floor beneath her was cold, sterile and hard. The blue girl reached down to her stomach, pushing gently on her navel. After a moment, the baby pushed back, and she sighed in relief. _Small comfort_, she thought, knowing that the violence of her capture did not seem to harm her child. Her body, on the other hand, felt broke and bruised. She could feel something cold and hard circling her neck; she groped her neck clumsily, and her fingers touched a thin metal collar. _What's…this…_? She swallowed and pushed herself up by her arms, but immediately regretted the swift motion. She retched, spilling the last lingering contents of her stomach on the floor in front of her. The motion of throwing up intensified her already severe headache, and she sank miserably back the unforgiving floor, rolling on her side to avoid the mess.

Mystique lay there for long time fighting the nausea and letting the fog of the drugs dissipate.

When she finally opened her eyes again, it was hours later. Even the soft light from the overhead blub made her wince. When her vision adjusted, she propped herself up again, slowing this time, and surveyed her surroundings. Tall metals bars cut the space in front of her, and shadowy space lay beyond. Three of the walls surrounding her were made of these metal bars, and behind her was a wall that looked like it was built from concrete. There was nothing in the room except a small toilet in the corner and a stripped-down cot lacking both bedding and a pillow. Outside the bars the space seemed to go on forever, and it had a warehouse feel. _I'm in a cage_, thought the blue girl. _Or a prison cell_. Mystique shook her head, trying to clear the fog from her brain.

"Hello?" Her voice came out as a broken whisper, but sounded as loud as a scream echoing through the darkness. _Silence_.

"_Hello_?" A well of panic started rising in the blue girl's throat. Only shadows lay before her, and empty cages in the dark. "Can anyone hear me?" Suddenly, a thump and stifled groan came from behind her the solid wall behind her. She turned quickly, startled by the soft noises. There was no one in her cage with her, but maybe there was someone behind her…

"Is…is there someone _there_?" She fought to keep her voice from trembling. In the distant dark, she heard a door open. Her head snapped towards the noise. Footsteps moved through the space, and a man was whistling a tune that grew in volume as the figure approached. The noises behind her cage stopped. _Someone is coming_. Mystique pushed herself away from the front of the cage and scrambled to put her back against the wall. A moment later, a man came into view. He was wearing a blue uniform, not unlike something like a maintenance man would wear. He stopped in surprise when he noticed she was awake. A smug smile crept across his face, making his features harsh and evil.

"Well now, look who's _finally_ decided to join the living." The man look at the floor in front of the blue mutant and his smile vanished. "Oh, for _fuck's sake_! I _just_ cleaned this cell!" Swearing more, he stormed off into the shadows. Mystique moved forward hesitantly and listened to a banging noise followed by something unfurling in around the corner. As she peered out into the shadows, a sudden burst of water knocked her on her side. She yelped in shock as the freezing liquid assaulted her, and she scrambled away from the stream to the opposite end of the small cage. The man laughed as he washed away the vomit with a hose.

"Stupid _bitch_, get out of the way!" Mystique was shaking from cold and rage. _How dare he_? She thought quickly. _If I can make myself thin enough, just for a few seconds, I can slip through these bars_…a sudden crack of pain racked her body and she winched. Both of her hands leapt to the collar around her neck. The pain seemed to radiate from that point.

"Doesn't feel too good, does it _freak_?" The man snickered at her. Her amber eyes looked up in fury at him. "Those collars are top-notch, and one of the best things this facility has ever produced. As long as that's on you, you can't use your _freak_ powers against me or anyone else." Mystique seized the collar tightly.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." The blue mutant hesitated, and the man continued, grinning. "See, the guys figured you'd try to escape by breaking that collar, so it's got a little explosive inside it. Pull too hard and…well, I'll guess I'll have to clean-up this cage _again_." Mystique swallowed, her hands frozen on the collar. She didn't know if he was telling the truth, but she didn't want to take the chance either.

"Why don't you be a good little _freak_ and sit down over there." The man motioned to her cot. "The doc will be in to see you shortly." Mystique stood up, water pouring off her body.

"_Fuck you_, meat-sack."

"Oh, she can _talk_!" The man laughed and pulled the hose. "I wonder if she knows how to beg?" With that he turned the hose on her full force, aiming at her knees so the cold water caused her lose her footing. She came crashing to the floor, just barely missing landing on her stomach. She tried to stand up, but each time she gained leverage, the man intensified the stream. His laughter rose as Mystique tried to block the water from her face. Suddenly, just when she thought she couldn't take any more, the water jerked away and she heard the man cry out in surprise.

"_Stop that this instant_!" Mystique couched up water and looked between her drenched locks and saw another man in a lab coat pointing a finger at the man with the hose. The first man looked terrified.

"Sir, I was just cleaning the cage because…"

"Do you know _how much_ we paid for her?" The man with the hose looked at Mystique before he looked back at his accuser. His lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out. The second man pressed him. "_Do you_?"

"No, sir. I…don't know, sir."

"More than your yearly salary, and she's a far _better_ investment." The man in the lab coat glared at him. The man with the hose mumbled and apology and dragged the hose back to its hook. Mystique caught her breath and watched the man in the lab coat. He flipped a switch and the room was suddenly flooded with florescent light. He then took a chart from a table next to her cage and began to review it. The blue girl sat back on her legs, soothing her wet hair into place.

"Thank you." Her voice was soft, and the man in the lab coat did not acknowledge her. She wondered if he heard her. After a few minutes the strange man picked up a small tape recorder and switched it on.

"This is Doctor Frank Gerry, attending. Subject #158 is a young female, appearing to be between ages 20 – 25 years, and displays a rather unique pigmentation and skin confirmation…"

"I'm 22." The Dr. Gerry paused for a second, looking directly at Mystique this time. "I'm 22 years old." The man shook his head and switched his tape recorder back on.

"Subject #158 appears to have a specific mutations that allows her to transform her skin…"

"My _name_ is Mystique." The doctor looked at her again, this time in irritation. He walked back to the table and set down his tape recorder with a sigh.

"Where am I?" Mystique stood and walked to the front of the cage, putting her hands on the bars. She looked at the doctor's back while he rummaged on the table. He turned around and studied her for a moment. "What is this place? Am I the only one…_ah_!" Mystique jumped back as a small dart penetrated her arm. The doctor looked indifferent to her pain. She pulled out the dart and saw that the doctor had a small dart gun in his hand. He had shot her.

"I didn't want to have to use this so soon, but you cannot be interrupting me while I am _working_." Mystique started to feel woozy as the tranquilizers flooded her bloodstream. She sank to the floor, bracing her weight on her left arm. She put her right arm on her stomach.

"The tranq…my baby…_no_…" The doctor took aim again and she felt the bite of a second dart in her leg.

"Your child is _fine_. This drug was specifically engineered for use on pregnant subjects. It only affects the mother, not the child." Mystique shook her head, fighting the drugs flooding her bloodstream. She didn't want to think about what would happen to her once she slipped into unconsciousness.

"_What_…do you…_want_…me?" Her breathing was ragged and shallow. She narrowed her eyes and glared at the doctor. The man continued to look at her impassively, as if he was merely waiting for a bus to arrive on schedule.

"I thought it would be obvious." The doctor looked at the dart gun and smiled. "A really wonderful invention, don't you think? We prefer to use drugs that don't hurt our _assets_." Mystique's eyes widened in terror when his words sank in.

"_No_…you _can't_" she struggled to sit-up. "I…won't…" Another dart pelted her chest and she fell backwards.

"But we _can_. Rest assured, we only want what's best for the child. It will make things much _easier_ on everyone if you just cooperate." The room began to swirl and fade to black. "And really, a second generation mutant with the mother intact to study? Quite an extraordinary opportunity. It's only too bad we couldn't get the father as well."

"They'll come…for me…"Mystique used her last ounce of strength to face the doctor. Her eyes burned with hatred. "_He'll_ come. He won't…rest until he…finds me…"

"Well, that's what we're hoping will happen."

* * *

><p>For a second time, Mystique woke in her cell, but this time, the lights were bright and glaring. She looked around her and saw there were several humans milling around in laboratory coats, and many more in what appeared to be military uniforms. A few stopped to point at her as she stirred. She laying her cot instead of the floor, and her arm was bandaged and sore. At some point, she had been moved, and it felt like blood had been taken from her arm. She shuddered to think about anything else that could have been done to her while she was unconscious.<p>

Hours slipped by but Mystique refused to move from her cot. One by one, the men in lab coats left, the last man turning off the lights. Only the emergency lighting remained, casting a soft blue glow. Mystique sat up and stared into the darkness for a long time, contemplating her situation. She was miserable, and could not see an immediate way out on her own. She had to think. _These bastards want to take my baby_. She didn't even want to entertain what for.

Suddenly, there was groan and a stirring noise in the dark. Mystique sat bolt upright. Whomever, or whatever it was, the noise was coming from right behind her cage.

"_Hello_?" Mystique listened intensely to her surroundings. "Is someone there?" She held her breath, waiting.

"..._Mysty_?" _It cannot be_, thought Mystique. She didn't dare hope. "Mysty, is that...is that _you_?"

"_Mort_?" Mystique left from her cot and ran to the side of the cell wall that seemed closest to his voice. She crouched down threaded her arm through the bars. While there was no way to see around the wall, she stuck her arm out as far as she could reach and felt around it. She couldn't reach the other side to the cell behind her.

"_Mort_? I'm _here_!" She started hitting the side of the wall so her fist. A moment later, something brushed against her fingers. She gasped in surprise before a familiar hand grabbed hers.

"Mysty, oh _thank God_!" The blue mutant clutched her teammate's hand as if it was a lifeline in a raging storm. Mort's hand squeezed hers tighter in response. Tears welled up in her eyes

"Are you _OK_? Is the baby...?" Mort's voice trailed off. Mystique squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"We're _fine_. I'm a little bruised, and I still feel sick from the tranquilizers, but the baby's kicking up a storm. Are you Ok?".

"I think…" Mort hesitated. "I think my leg is broken. Someone...someone put it in a split, but I can't move it." Mystique's heart sank.

"Where are we? What's going on?" Mystique shook her head, even though she knew Mort couldn't see her.

"I don't know. We're in some kind of laboratory prison. I don't know. There are men in lab coats and soldiers…" Mystique swallowed. "There was a doctor ealier, looking at me like..." Mystique shuddered at the memory. "…Looking at me like I was some kind of _animal_. I don't like this at all."

"What's this thing around my neck?" Mort's hand shifted and she knew he was fingering his collar.

"Don't touch it!" Mystique exclaimed. She wasn't sure if it would explode, but she wasn't taking any chances. "It prevents us from using from using our mutations somehow. I have one too."

"So you can't...you can't _talk_ to Emma, can you?" There was a note of feat in Mort's voice. Mystique had already thought of that possibility, and the reality of their situation was pressing hard on her.

"No, the collar blocks my ability to reach out to her or Charles. I still have a headache from trying."

"How are we going to get out of here?" There was a sad desperation in Mort's voice. She squeezed his hand as she fought back tears of frustration and fear. With Mort's broken leg and her condition, they couldn't fight their way out, even if they had a chance.

"I don't know." Mystique swallowed. "I don't know if we can get ourselves out. But I do know this: we have to try. We have to think of a way and we have to try."

"The Brotherhood won't leave us here." Mort said this statement as if he was trying to convince himself. "They won't stop until we're found, and safe. Right?"

"No, they won't stop looking, but we can't just wait either. It might be days, or weeks…" Mystique put her hand on her stomach. _I don't know how much time we have_. She didn't tell Mort about the conversation about her child. She didn't want to think about it herself.

"Mysty? I'm _scared_."

"So am I, Mort."

In the dark, the two mutants held on to each other in silence.

* * *

><p>After a while, Mystique lost count of the days. There were no windows, and no way for her to tell time in her cell. Day after day, doctors and scientists came to her cell to study her, to poke and prod her, and to tranquilize her when she fought back. Once she heard Mort screaming behind her and she became hysterical; she tried to use her mutation over and over until the pain knocked her unconscious. The two prisoners talked every chance they could about escaping, but so far, they were unable to devise a reasonable plan.<p>

One night after all the soldiers and doctors had left, Mystique lay in her cot staring at the ceiling. Mort was long asleep; his soft snoring the only noise penetrating the dark silence. After a while, Mystique heard a soft rush of wind. She sat up in her bed and peered into the shadows surrounding her cell. There was nothing she could see, but she knew she heard a noise. After a few moments, she had the uncanny feeling as if she was being watched. She stood and walked to the edge of her cell, looking hard into the darkness. For a few seconds, she saw nothing; then for the briefest second, Mystique saw a slight movement in the shadows.

"Who's _there_?" Just barely visible beyond the corner, Mystique could see a figure standing silently, observing her. The blue mutant couldn't make out the figure's features or shape, but she knew there was someone in the shadows.

"I can see you, whoever you are." The figure remained stationary. Despite the darkness, Mystique swore she would see a flash of light where the figure's eyes where. After a few moments, Mystique sighed and started walking back to her cot.

"Are there others like you?" Mystique turned suddenly towards the voice. It was soft with a lilting accent; it sounded feminine. Mystique cocked her head and walked back to the front of the cage. She crossed her arms. The figure had taken a few steps forward, but remained concealed in the shadows.

"What do you mean, _like_ me?" The figure was silent for a long time. Mystique waited. She studied the figure. They – possibly _she_ – was wearing a cloak, and carried a bag slung to one side. The figure didn't look much bigger than Mystique, but it was hard to estimate their true size with the cloak. _And that cloak_…a cold rush flooded Mystique when she realized she was looking at the same mysterious figure that had captured her on her run from the Montana cabin. When the figure shifted slightly, a gleam of silver flashed by their right hip, distracting Mystique's thoughts. She held her breath. _It was a dagger. _

"Are there others your color?" Mystique took her eyes off the dagger and glanced at her own indigo scales. She peered back at the figure, who had taken another step forward. A few more steps and she would be able to see this mystery person more clearly, and possibly, grab their weapon. A plan was forming in Mystique's mind.

"No, I haven't seen…this _particular_ color on anyone else." Mystique wrapped her fingers around the bars, looking directly at the cloaked figure. "Most of my kind look human on the outside, and most humans can't tell a mutant apart from a human until they use their powers for the first time." Mystique dropped her voice, hoping it would draw the figure closer to better hear her. "My mate though," Mystique whispered, "he's colored as well, but not blue. _Crimson_."

"Crimson?" The figure moved one more step toward the cage. They tiled their head slightly, intrigued.

"Yes, crimson. Red, dark. Like _blood_." The figure seemed more cautiously curious than anything else, but the blue mutant had to be careful. She was starting to wonder why this figure would come here to speak with her. If the scientists had paid for her, as she overheard, then the mercenary who caught her shouldn't still be around, or care what happened to her. It didn't make any sense.

"Who _are_ you?" Mystique waited. The figure stopped advanced and look at her in silence.

"I'm…my name is Mystique. What's your name?" The figure hesitated, taking a step back. _Fuck_, Mystique thought, glancing at the weapon. _Just a few more steps closer_; _don't scare them away now_. "Can I at least see you? You can see me but I can't see you. That's not _fair_." Come on…if she could get her closer, she might have a change at getting the figure's weapon. After what seemed like an eternity, the figure stepped forward, much closer to the cage, but still in the shadows.

"Why should I tell you my name, or allow you see me?" The silky voice wasn't friendly, but it wasn't hostile either.

"Why are you talking to me at all?" Mystique swallowed. _A just one more step_…

Somewhere in the distance, a door opened with a distinct click. The cloaked figure turned swiftly in the direction of the noise, their body tense and like a cat ready to pounce She was still a bit far away, but with the figure distracted, Mystique saw her only chance. In a quick motion, the blue girl's hand shot out of the cage and reached for the figure's dagger. Her fingertips brushed the hilt. _Goddamn it_, thought Mystique. At Mystique's sudden movement, the figure's turned and blocked her advance, but in the process, Mystique managed to grab the mystery figure's glove. The blue girl yanked on the glove and twisted it in an attempt to pull the figure and their weapon within reach. As the glove slipped down, Mystique noticed that the figure's arm was taut and smooth; unmistakably feminine. Even in the cool light, her skin seemed to glow…Mystique's eyes widened in surprise, and instinctively, she dropped the figure's wrist. The figure quickly snatched the glove and pulled it up, retreated back to the shadows.

"_You're_..." Mystique's voice failed. Mystique couldn't believe what she had seen. The figure swore and hastily retreating into the darkest shadows. There were footfalls coming louder.

"_Wait_, don't leave!" Mystique whispered, keeping her voice down from the approaching footsteps as she reached her arms out of the bars imploringly. "I didn't _mean_…!"

"I was _never_ here." The figure took a few steps back and opened her bag. Mystique pushed her entire body desperately against the bars of her cell. The figure pulled what looked like a crystal out of her bag and took a deep breath. Suddenly, anger flared up in Mystique.

"_Why are you helping them_!" Mystique hissed as the figure dropped the crystal. There was a flash of light and the figure vanished. Seconds later, Doctor Gerry and his assistant walked up to her cell.

"What's got you all riled up? You better behave or we'll be forced to use the darts again." Mystique glared at the men and took a step back from the front of the cage. She walked back to her cot. The mysterious figure had vanished, but not before the Mystique had seen the unnatural pink hue of her skin.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Only a few chapters left! _


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